


Mary, Queen of Scots

by Ayano_18



Category: Reign (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:35:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 20,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24490654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ayano_18/pseuds/Ayano_18
Summary: Mary Stuart, Queen of Scotland, arrives at her childhood home of French Court. Accompanied by her four ladies in waiting, she meets her fiancé, Francis, for the first time since they were children.
Relationships: Kenna/Sebastian "Bash" de Poitiers, Mary Queen of Scots/Francis de Valois (Reign), Mary Queen of Scots/Sebastian "Bash" de Poitiers, Mary/Tomas, francis/ pretty much every female to ever come to court lol, francis/Olivia
Comments: 14
Kudos: 30





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "Carve out your heart and hand it to me so that we might understand one another. That is diplomacy. To understand the loss. To carry the weight of your dead heart with you, every night and day until you find your grave." -Count Vincent
> 
> ^^ One of my favourite Reign quotes. It felt relevant.
> 
> Hey guys, idk if many people are gonna read this but if you do then hello! I sincerely hope you are doing okay in this difficult time. If you're here to take yourself away from reality for a while, as I am, then I hope this does a good enough job!! If not then still, enjoy x

The smell of the fresh sea air filled the harbor, a new smell, just as unfamiliar as this new land. Mary had lived in this country as a child, yet that seemed so long ago. There was bustle and business as the town prepared for the upcoming festivities.

As Mary’s feet met the wooden planks of the docks, her attention was drawn to the children playing at the seafront. Their merry giggles carried on the ocean breeze and greeted Mary like a welcoming song. She had always had a way with children, finding comfort in their carefree manner. These children were different, though. They dressed differently, spoke strangely. Although Mary had been taught their language as a child, she wasn’t ready to speak the tongue of her new home just yet. In fact, she hadn’t spoken a word since her tearful departure from Scotland two days ago. Her mother had been there to wish her safe passage to France, as had a priest who blessed her and the new life she would embark upon.

It wasn’t that Mary was sad to leave her homeland, or even that she was fearful of this unknown place and its people, but rather she was unsure of what may be awaiting her at French Court. What if the young Dauphin she had been so fond of as a child had changed? What if Mary herself had changed and she didn’t even know it? Nevertheless, Mary held her head high and, with one foot in front of another, she climbed aboard the carriage waiting for her.

She hoped to find love in her engagement to the King’s son, but love was so unheard of for people like her. As the carriage bounced across the cobbled roads, Mary thought of the life she may have. She thought of Francis, of the man he must have become and how they used to play on the castle grounds as children. Perhaps, one day, their children would be just as happy as they were. It was Mary’s duty to provide an heir for both Scotland and France, but Mary hoped for more. A whole happy family.

Mary struggled to picture what her fiance must look like. She hadn’t seen him since they were very little. She closed her eyes tightly and tried to imagine his fuzzy blond hair and childish grin on an adult.

The commotion of the busy town faded to the steady sound of the carriage’s wheels against the path and when Mary opened her eyes once more, she saw the countryside. Tall, dark trees loomed over the carriage and, through the window, Mary could see the large stone towers of French Court. All at once, she felt so small as the carriage pulled up at the end of a long path.

Taking the footsman’s outstretched hand, Mary climbed down from her ride and stepped onto the soil beneath her feet. Court was so much grander than she remembered, with manicured green lawns, magnificent stone structure and a glorious lake, much clearer than any she had seen in Scotland. The castle really was a ray of light among the darkened woods surrounding it. However, there was something strange about this place, Mary could feel it. The very thought of adventuring around her old childhood home excited her. 

As Mary turned her attention away from the luxurious sight before her, she noticed a second carriage pull up alongside her own. Her mother had told her of the four girls who would be accompanying her to France to be her ladies-in-waiting, however she was yet to find out who they were.

The quiet tranquility of the beautiful open space was quickly replaced with the babbling chatter coming from the other carriage, but Mary didn’t mind. There is nothing worse than being all alone in a foreign place so she was eager to make some friends. As she walked around the side of her carriage to greet the girls, they fell silent and the smiles slipped from their faces like soapy plates from wet hands. All four dropped to the floor in low curtseys, muttering quiet greetings under their breaths. 

“Your Majesty,” one of the girls started, “it is a pleasure to serve you.” her fair hair swirled in the wind, as did the skirt of her flowing, indigo dress. 

The second girl smiled shyly at Mary, offering a quiet, “Your Grace,” before returning her gaze to the floor, tucking a strand of her curly brunette hair behind one ear. 

The third girl said nothing at all. Her skin was lighter than her short, golden hair, and her eyes were red and sore as though she had been crying, perhaps for the departure from her homeland and her family. 

The fourth girl wore her smile the way a Queen wears a crown. Her eyes glowed with excitement the same way Mary’s did.

Mary smiled at the company of girls her own age. As her tired eyes watched the girls, she hoped they would become good friends. She certainly knew she needed some if she was going to survive life at French Court. 

“Please, you may call me Mary,” each girl nodded politely, but looked somewhat surprised. “I hope we can all get along as friends here.” 

Mary’s words were received with warm smiles, and in no time at all, the group was chattering and giggling like children raised together from birth. Lola, Greer, Kenna and Aylee, as they were known, greeted Mary like an old friend and Mary grew quite fond of their little quirks. Together, they made their way down the path and through the stone archway into the innermost castle grounds.

Rows of servants and guests at Court stood to greet the young Queen and her ladies. Armed guards stood to attention as a regal fanfare played and the girls excitedly held their breaths to catch the first glimpse of the French Royals. As King Henry made his way through the parted crowd, both servants and guests alike bowed before him. Walking at his side was his famously intimidating mistress, Diane de Poitier and following behind them was Catherine de Medici, Queen of France with her head held high. Their glorious clothes and confident charisma was certainly more than that of Mary, who was still just as small and scared as before. 

“Don’t they look radiant?” Aylee whispered to the others. 

“Certainly,” Kenna replied, “I shall fit in nicely here. I don’t suppose we’ll have any trouble finding husbands.” 

“I should like to wait until we return home to settle with a nice husband.” Lola stated, matter-of-factly. 

“We may never return to Scottish soil. Not if it all works out with Mary.”

“What do you mean, ‘if’?”

From the crowd emerged a man, tall and dark but stunningly handsome. His messy brown hair matched the colour of the riding gear he wore and his eyes sparkled like the bluest of oceans in the afternoon sunshine. 

“Is that Francis?” Greer asked Mary, eagerly. “Isn’t he gorgeous?”

“No, I don’t think so...”

For a moment, Mary’s heart sank. She had hoped to feel something more for the young prince when she saw him again. Her thoughts were interrupted when she saw a younger man stride across the field towards her. Although he hadn’t entered the field with the rest of the family, it was clear he was a royal, from his extravagant clothes and confident walk. 

“That’s him.” Mary gasped. “I can feel it.” 

Francis had the same messy blond hair and crooked smile as he wore when they were children only, he was a man now. Mary gazed upon his perfect face and somehow knew she was home again. 

As he approached her, Francis took Mary’s hand and kissed it, looking back at her face with a grin. Mary felt her cheeks blush crimson as she smiled back at him.

“I don’t believe it. It’s been so long.” Mary thought to herself.

“Your Grace,” he said as he bowed before her. He spoke the forgein language, but Mary understood perfectly and spoke back in French for the first time.

“No, please. Call me Mary.” 

“Francis.” he smiled. 

Mary nodded with a small smile, still unable to take her eyes off the young Dauphin.

“The castle looks so much bigger, is that possible? You do too, of course. Not that it’s entirely unexpected, you just have longer legs now. Although, your legs were always longer than mine. I always hated that when we were children, I would have to chase after you but now…” Mary trailed off, realising she had been babbling. She could hear her ladies giggling behind her and blushed all over again. For this marriage alliance to work, she would have to make a good impression. Composing herself, she finished, “Well, now it suits you.” 

The admiration for the young Queen that Francis had once felt as a child returned to him just as quickly as the smile did to his face.

Offering his arm to Mary, he asked, “Shall we?”

With a final glance back at her ladies, Mary accepted his outstretched arm and walked with him through the crowds of bowing people towards the castle.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fabulous feast to celebrate Mary's arrival to French Court is set up in the Great Hall. But when Mary gets cold feet, only Francis can console her.

The great hall was decorated with coloured tapestries and amber cloths draped across the ceiling pillars. Although the decorations were put up in preparation for the upcoming harvest festival, tonight was all about Mary. A grand feast had been prepared, as well as music and dancing to welcome the Queen to her new home.

For Francis, however, this was nothing more than a royal display, and he had seen quite enough of those. As Mary and Francis had been engaged since they were infants, Francis had known this day was coming for a long time. He also knew that he would only marry Mary when his father, the King, decided the time was right for France. An alliance with Scotland could either save his country or destroy it and Francis had no intention of marrying the young Queen a second before he had to. 

As he walked along the back wall of the ball, he scanned the room for Mary’s raven hair to no avail. Why wouldn’t Mary have shown up to her own party? Curiosity getting the better of him, Francis slipped out of the door and wandered down the hallway.

He wasn’t sure which room was Mary’s but he knew it had to be somewhere along the east wing. His steady footsteps echoed through the empty halls as he approached the nearest wooden door and knocked lightly. The door creaked open to reveal Mary’s pale face and wide eyes.

She was a picture of beauty, wearing a black satin dress and reddened lips. Her hair tumbled across her shoulders and down her back and shimmered from the light of the surrounding candles. Francis felt the breath catch in his throat as she stared up at him with those beautiful hazel eyes. 

“I, uh…” He started, “I thought I would come to find you when I didn’t see you at the party.”

“I’m afraid I simply can’t attend.” Mary answered, her voice quiet and frail. “I’m afraid I…” Mary took a sharp breath in, clutching her hands to her stomach.

Francis nodded understandingly, offering a warm smile. “Would it be inappropriate of me to stay with you for a while?” 

“I would like that very much.”

Mary pulled the door open fully to allow the Dauphin to enter her chambers. Francis strided over to the fireplace before stopping and turning back to the young Queen. 

“You are very brave, Mary. To come back here for the good of your kingdom.”

“I hardly had a choice. The English wish to kill me, and they probably would have succeeded if it weren’t for your father.” Mary frowned, closing the door and walking towards Francis. “If it weren’t for France, I would not be here, with you, like this.” 

As she looked up at him, their eyes met, and all of a sudden, Mary didn’t feel so small anymore.

“I’m sorry,” Mary smiled shyly, “I shouldn’t be keeping you from the festivities. You should return before people come looking for you, too.” 

“These parties always are a bore. Perhaps you would be so kind as to make my evening better and dance with me?” Francis held his hand out to Mary, an invitation. 

“I couldn’t possibly-”

“You and I, Mary.” Francis interrupted. “Together.”

Francis was certainly a charming young man and Mary fell for him quickly, the way he wanted her to. Accepting his outstretched arm, Mary and Francis walked together to the hall. They almost looked like husband and wife, king and queen, best of friends. Almost, but not quite.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While set out to find Francis, Mary comes across his dashing half-brother, Bash and some strange noises coming from the woods..

Mary awoke the next morning with a pounding in her head and butterflies in her stomach. Too much wine was the cause of the ache in her head, but the butterflies were put there by Francis himself. They both had danced the night away and Francis had not left Mary’s side until he escorted her back to her chambers. Mary had thought about the French prince all night long, his gentle touch, the way he had looked at her as they danced. The very memory of the night before brought a smile to her face. 

Although the hour was early and the sun had not yet risen, Mary decided to explore the castle and search for Francis as she did so.

After several twists and turns through the halls of French Court, Mary found herself to be completely and entirely lost. Sighing with frustration, Mary turned around and headed back the way she came, her footprints echoing as she walked.

As she approached the end of the hallway, Mary came across a small wooden door. She could tell by the position of the door that it led outside to the gardens. Perhaps she could get a better idea of where she was if she saw the castle from the outside. The cold air rushed through Mary’s hair, making her shiver and she wrapped her arms across her chest in an attempt to keep warm. 

Despite her efforts to get back through the door, it could only be opened from the inside. As Mary was about to turn and walk across the grass to find another entrance, she heard a sound from the woods behind her. This noise sounded human, like a chant or prayer but the language was unrecognisable, and it stopped just as quickly as it started.

Curiosity taking over her, Mary edged towards the line of trees, listening eagerly for a sound. The wind whistled around her yet Mary was thinking of anything but the cold. When Mary heard the sound of a branch snapping, she stepped back, suddenly more afraid of what lay hidden in the woods. 

“I wouldn't go in there if I were you.” 

Mary jumped at the sound of a man’s voice and turned around quickly to see who it was. 

“A young Queen has no place going into these woods alone.” 

Mary recognised his bright eyes and messy brown hair as soon as she saw them.

“I know you. I saw you on the castle green when I first arrived here.” 

“That you did.” The handsome stranger grinned, bowing before Mary. “And I saw you.”

“Who are you?” Mary demanded, trying to sound as confident as a Queen should.   
“Sebastian. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Grace.” 

Mary felt her cheeks flush red as Sebastian took her hand and kissed it, smiling up at her. 

“Hello, Sebastian. Now tell me, what is in these woods that people are so afraid of?”

“I pray you never have to find out.” As he spoke, a gust of wind swept across the field and caused Mary to shiver once more. “Perhaps I should take you inside to the warmth of a fire.” 

“I can find my own way back inside!” Mary argued, defensively, causing Sebastian to smirk from ear to ear.

“I’m sure, Your Majesty.” he answered. “But it would not do good for my moral conscience to leave a Queen as lovely as you all alone. Please, I insist.” 

Mary did not have to be asked twice, and she followed Sebastian across the grass towards the building before them. 

“Thank you, Sebastian. You are quite the gentleman.”

“It is an honour, I assure you.” Sebastian paused, sneaking a glance over at Mary. Her long green dress fluttered in the wind and her raven hair made her skin look fair. She truly was more beautiful than Sebastian could have pictured. “You know,” he started, cautiously, “my friends address me as ‘Bash’.” 

Mary looked up to meet his gaze and smiled. “Are we friends, Bash?” she asked, hoping for his answer to be yes. 

Sebastian hesitated, and Mary was afraid she had said the wrong thing until his voice calmed Mary’s nerves. 

“I hope you know you’re not alone here.” 

Mary smiled and nodded as her heart skipped a beat. 

Before long, they had both made it back inside the castle. As Mary sat before the fireplace, warming her hands, Bash watched her intently. Her bright eyes glowed from the light of the fireplace and her hair fell in ringlets down her back. Sebastian could not deny the heaviness he had felt before she came to court and how light his heart seemed to be now that they had met.

After taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, he began to speak, “I was, uh…” he swallowed the lump in this throat. “I was wondering if you’d like to go riding with me, tomorrow at two?” 

Before Mary could respond, a voice sounded from the doorway. 

“Well, I’m afraid that’s simply not possible.” Francis smiled kindly at Bash, his eyes soft. “The King has requested an audience with Mary and I at two o’clock precisely.” 

Bash laughed heartily, though his eyes did not match the fake smile he wore. Francis grinned down at Mary who had quickly scrambled to her feet. 

“I see you’ve met my brother.” 

Mary’s hands froze from where they had been straightening out the skirt of her dress and she looked up at Bash. “Brother?”

Sebastian laughed, genuinely this time as Francis walked further into the room. “Half brother, actually.” 

“You didn’t mention that…” Mary’s eyeline dropped to the floor as her cheeks flushed red, embarrassed. 

“I didn’t want to ruin our first meeting by telling you I’m your fiancé's brother. It’s not everyday you come across the Queen of Scotland wandering out by the woods.” 

Mary smiled gratefully, knowing that Bash had saved her from making a fool of herself in front of Francis. 

“Well, I thank you for your help, Sebastian. If you’ll excuse me, I promised Lady Greer we’d read together this morning.” 

As Mary walked past Bash and curtseyed to Francis before leaving the room, she knew in her heart she had much to think about.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the castle celebrate the first frost, Mary and Francis realise the 'happy couple' may not be so happy after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's kinda long, sorry XD  
> Did I use actual lines from the show entirely out of context? Why, yes! Yes I did :)

The autumn sun slipped down the horizon ready to wake the other side of the world as the first frost of the year began to gather along the line of the forest. Leaves, all colours of brown, orange and yellow crunched underfoot as Mary walked across the courtyard towards the festival of the fall. Her red and white silk gown trailed across the stone floor and she pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. 

The Great Hall was filled with long tables draped with golden tablecloths and decorated with fine silverware. Extravagant dishes lay ready for people to take food from them and goblets were being filled with wine as servants busied themselves with last minute preparations. 

Scanning the room, Mary noticed Francis sitting in the corner of the room. She frowned as she watched him, engaged deeply in conversation with the young woman sitting beside him. Her heart dropped at this girl’s obvious flirtation with the dauphin. 

Her thoughts were interrupted by a voice sounding from behind her. 

“You look beautiful.” Mary turned to meet Bash’s eye, smiling slightly. 

“Who’s that young lady?” Mary asked, nodding her head in Francis’ direction. 

Bash looked up across the hall before answering, “Lady Isabella, daughter of the Count Vincent.” After noting Mary’s blank expression, he added, “From Italy.”

Mary sighed, crossing her arms across her chest. Tears threatened to roll down her cheeks but she held them back. This was certainly no place to cry. Glancing over Bash’s shoulder, Mary noticed her four ladies enter wearing their best clothes. 

“Mary, there you are!” Aylee cried, rushing over. 

Greer followed closely behind. “We visited your chambers but your maid said you had already left.”

“This is for you.” Lola held out a golden necklace with a silver chain and placed it in Mary’s hand. “A gift from Aylee’s father.” she explained. 

Mary smiled warmly, pushing her upset about Francis to the back of her mind. “Oh Aylee, how sweet, thank you. I must write to him myself tomorrow.” 

“So, Mary,” Kenna whispered, jokingly, “Who is your new friend?” she indicated to Bash with her hand. 

He chuckled, bowing before Kenna and smiling. “Sebastian. It’s a pleasure to meet you, ladies.” 

“The King’s bastard?” 

“Aylee!” 

“It’s quite alright.” Bash grinned. “Yes, I am Francis’ brother, son to the King and his mistress, Diane.” 

“I heard he favours you.” Kenna teased. 

“Can you blame him? I’m certainly more dashing than Francis, don’t you think so?” Bash winked, making the girls erupt into giggles.”

“Do you flirt with everyone you meet?” Mary asked him, rolling her eyes.

“Almost everyone, yes.” 

“Speaking of Francis,” Greer said, bringing them back to their previous conversation, “what is he doing with that girl over there?” 

Mary sighed, shrugging her shoulders helplessly. 

“Well, don’t just stand here talking to us! For this alliance to work, you have to win him over.” Lola insisted, pushing Mary gently towards the direction of Francis’ table. 

“Yes, and leave your handsome new friend here with us.” Kenna said, looking up at Bash, who raised his eyebrows. 

At that moment, Francis looked up from his conversation with Isabella and caught Mary’s gaze. He smiled, and Mary felt her heart flutter. She watched as he excused himself, stood up and started walking towards Mary. 

“He’s coming this way!” Mary hissed to her ladies, who all smiled reassuringly. 

“Come on ladies, let us leave the happy couple alone for a moment.” Lola laughed, nudging Mary, playfully. 

The girls linked arms and walked away together to find their places at the table. 

“Don’t worry, Mary.” Bash whispered in Mary’s ear as Francis approached them. “You look beautiful.” After gently squeezing her shoulder, he walked away to talk to his mother. 

“Mary,” Francis said, his eyes followed Bash as he walked away, across the hall. He frowned slightly but quickly returned his attention to Mary. “I wonder if we might have a word?” 

Francis took Mary’s hand and guided her over to the corner of the room. Despite not knowing him all too well, Mary felt a sense of excitement for being alone with Francis. 

“I thought our audience with my father went well yesterday. I’m sure marriage negotiations will be resolved in no time.” 

“Yes,” Mary was confused. “That is why I came to France, to wed you. You sound unsure?” 

“Well, we can’t be sure of anything yet, but I’m sure I’ll handle it.” 

Mary took a step away from him, offended. “Handle what? Me?” She searched his face for any signs of an answer but received none. “You do realise we are going to be married someday, don’t you?”

“Believe me, I know.” 

Mary could hear the hurt and anger fill her voice as she spoke but, despite desperately wanting to, she could not stop. “I know you had a life before I got here. That there were women before me.”

“It’s not about that-”

“Don’t you think we owe it to each other- to our families and to our countries- to give this a chance?”

Francis held his hands out in front of him in an effort to calm the young Queen. 

“Mary, it’s not that simple.”

“Not that simple!” The volume of Mary’s voice raised and gathered the attention of several surrounding guests to the feast. Francis felt his face heat up with embarrassment as they watched Mary’s furious outburst. “What’s not simple? We’ve been engaged since we were six! It’s all arranged! How awful must you find me to do this?”

“It’s not you,” Francis tried to explain, “you’re beautiful and clever and unpredictable.” Mary’s heart softened like butter as he said this and she could no longer remember what she had been so angry about. “But it doesn’t matter.” Francis continued. “What matters is what’s right for my country. France is not as strong as you think- or care- which, maybe you don’t, but I do! I’m going to be King someday, responsible for my people. And right now, an alliance with Scotland could destroy France.” 

Mary’s face darkened as she realised what he was saying. When she first saw Francis, she had felt as though she was home again. Now she just felt so small and alone. 

“You don’t want to marry me.” She stated, glaring at Francis. As the reality sunk in, her eyes softened and her heart sank. This journey to France, the pain of leaving her mother, the constant pressure on her to always make the right decision, could all be for nothing. “You don’t want this at all.” Her voice was small and frail as she looked to the floor, fighting back her tears. 

“I know it’s not what you want to hear-”

“And you won’t love me.” She whispered, lifting her head to look him in the eye. “You won’t let yourself.” 

“Love is irrelevant to people like us. Us, who are privileged in so many ways but that.” For a moment, Francis looked just as heartbroken as Mary did before his expression hardened. “Besides, things could change.” 

“You mean things could change for France.” Mary pushed back, her voice now stern. “You’re not the only one with a country to think of.”

“All I’m asking is for you to wait.” 

“For how long? Until the time is right for France? Or until you decide you don’t want me and you’d rather spend your time with that Italian girl. Well? Do you deny it?” Mary shouted, angrily, allowing the tears to fall from her eyes. 

Francis matched the same level of anger in his voice as he replied, “If you’re ever going to be the Queen of France, you need to understand something. Kings do not answer to their wives.” 

Mary stepped backwards, her eyes wide. She couldn't understand why Francis was acting this way. Still, perhaps he was right. Perhaps she had no place at court after all. 

Francis flinched at his own harsh words, clenching his fists at his waist. Why did he say that? The truth is, he had feelings for Mary. The kind of feelings that have no place at court.

In fear of saying something wrong, Francis brushed past Mary and walked hurriedly towards the feast. Mary let him walk away, tears slipping effortlessly down her cheeks. After allowing herself to breathe for a moment, she wiped her tears away and plastered a smile onto her face. A Queen is what they asked for, and a Queen is what they were going to get. 

Determined to show Francis she was stronger than he thought her to be, Mary marched over to where Bash stood talking to his mother. 

“Mary?” Bash turned his attention to Mary immediately, noticing her pale face and tear stained cheeks. “Are you alright?”

“Come sit with me?” She asked, hopefully. 

Bash nodded before excusing himself from Diane’s company. As Mary walked with him to find their places at the table, she clung to his arm with shaking hands. 

“Did he hurt you?” Bash asked, with worry in his voice. 

“Only with his words, I assure you.” Mary smiled weakly before sitting down next to Kenna and the rest of her ladies. To Kenna’s delight and Mary’s relief, Sebastian sat down beside Mary. 

Reaching out to touch Mary’s hand, he reassured her, “You are not alone, Mary. No matter how Francis makes you feel, you have friends here. Just look around you.” Mary nodded. “And,” Bash continued, taking a silver band off his finger and slipping it onto Mary’s, “if you ever need a reminder, this ring will do just that.” 

A breath escaped Mary's lips she did not even know she was holding. She felt lighter somehow. She saw the kindness in Sebastian’s eyes and was grateful for it. What she didn’t see was Francis watching her from across the table. She didn’t see the regret in his eyes, nor the envy for the relationship his brother had been able to build so easily. She didn’t see him nod along to Isabella’s boring conversation while, in his mind, all he could think about was Mary. 

By the time the feast was over, it was already nightfall and tables had been cleared for dancing. All the girls excitedly awaited an invitation to dance as couples took to the dance floor together.  
Everyone was dressed in their finest attire for such a special occasion and the scene was certainly a beautiful one. 

“Dance with me.” Mary said openly. 

“Mary?” Lola asked, confused.

“Come on, Lola. All of you! Take off your shoes and come dance with me!” And so they did, just four girls and a young Queen twirling and skipping to the music, giggling all the while.

“We’re overrun by Scots!” Catherine de Medici sighed, rolling her eyes, but the five friends hardly heard the Queen’s words for their laughter. 

Bash watched the girls fondly from the edge of the room as the other guests clapped and cheered. Also watching from a distance was Francis, admiring Mary’s elegance and beauty. When he noticed Mary smiling at Sebastian with such happiness he had never seen before, he couldn’t help but feel jealous of his brother all over again. 

He looked up as white feathers fell down, almost as if from nowhere, and revelled in a memory from his childhood, when he and Mary would jump on the bed for hours, throwing pillows and laughing as the feathers fell around them. When he looked down again, he met Mary’s eye and knew in his heart that she was thinking of that memory too. They held each other's gaze for a moment, and Francis dared not look away lest the connection he felt to her be lost. As other guests joined the girls on the dance floor, Mary was dragged away, swallowed by a wave of joyous people, dancing as though tomorrow would not come.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fall festivities draw to a close and Francis tries to apologise to Mary. 
> 
> Sure, he does a really bad job, but we appreciate the effort <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk how many of these I'm gonna make :/
> 
> I guess if you guys keep reading, I'll keep writing.

As the sky darkened and the stars looked down over the castle like watchful eyes, the ball was coming to an end. Many guests had already retired to their chambers and the orchestra had begun playing their final songs. 

“It’s getting late,” Aylee yawned. “Should we retire now?” 

Kenna nodded, “I’m ready if you are.”

Together, the girls made their way towards the doors of the Great Hall. The party had been fun, but they were all tired from the dancing. As they reached the hallway, they heard a voice call out from behind them. 

“Mary!” 

As they turned around, they saw Francis, his blue eyes clouded with worry. Mary paused, looking back at him, before turning back to her ladies. 

“Go ahead, I’ll be there in a moment.” 

With a nod and a curtsey each, the girls hurried off down the corridor. Mary stepped towards Francis a little, allowing him to close the gap between them.

“I’m sorry about what I said.” Francis started, his voice low and soft. “I was wrong. The truth is, I think I could grow to care for you. And that is a terrifying thing to think.” 

Mary nodded with understanding. “I feel the same way.” 

Francis raised his eyebrows slightly, surprised. “Is that so? I assumed you found my brother more appealing than I.” He reached out his hand to take Mary’s, holding it up to reveal the silver ring wrapped around her finger. “This is Sebastian’s ring, is it not?” 

Mary felt her heart stop as she realised how this situation made her look. If she were to marry the Dauphin of France, she would have to maintain her virtue, which she had, but this ring did appear as a romantic gesture. 

“Just a gift,” Mary explained, “to make me feel less alone.”

“You are not alone here.”

Mary smiled politely, and Francis thought of how she had smiled at Bash earlier this evening. How her eyes had glowed with a happiness that Francis hadn’t seen before, and how Sebastian had smiled back. In this moment, he wanted nothing more than to be the cause of Mary’s smile, real and genuine and happy. 

“Well, I should get back to my ladies.” Mary said, curtseying politely before turning away from the young prince. 

“Mary, I wondered if you’d like to walk with me in the gardens tomorrow.” 

Mary stopped walking away, but kept her back to Francis. She couldn’t bring herself to watch the disappointment on his face when she replied, “My apologies, Your Majesty, but I am rather busy tomorrow.” 

Francis watched as she walked away. “Another day, perhaps?” 

Mary did not respond, and Francis kept his eyes on her until she was out of sight. Sighing with disappointment, he turned on his heels and headed back into the Great Hall


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary and Bash sneak away from the castle under the cover of night. But when the truth comes out, how will they deal with it?

  
Snow fell earlier than expected, covering the ground in a soft white blanket. The moon wasn’t visible in the evening sky due to the heavy grey clouds threatening to snow again. The sound of horses’ hooves on the stone floor of the stables broke the eerie silence of the otherwise empty castle grounds. A crisp chill was in the air, as Mary sat on a bench in the stables, tying the laces of her riding shoes. 

“Are you ready to go?” 

Mary looked up to see Bash clutching a crop in his hand and holding out one for her in the other. She took it from him, standing up. 

“Yes,” Mary said, taking a quick glance around to be sure no one was there. “Let’s go.”

“I still do not understand why it is that we have to ride so late into the night.” Sebastian said, walking towards the horses he had prepared. “We’re more likely to get lost in the dark.”

“Don’t worry,” Mary mounted her horse, gripping the reins in her hand. “I trust you to not get us lost.”

Bash followed suit, mounting his horse and guiding it towards Mary. 

“Mary, will you give me an honest answer? I deserve at least that.”

Mary hesitated. Sebastian should know the truth.

“Very well,” Mary said as she began to ride down the path towards the hills. “I was afraid of being seen together by Francis.” 

Sebastian sighed, but nodded with understanding, and his usually bright eyes dulled.

“I see.”

They both were riding now, increasing their speed as they travelled up the path. Sebastian watched Mary as she sat forward in the saddle. Her hazel eyes glistened as the clouds parted and the moon shone down on her. Trees flew past them as they rode together, through the night. Despite her worries for Francis, Mary couldn't help but smile at the joy she felt to be galloping through the trees with Bash, and the secrecy of riding at night made it all the more thrilling. Bash admired Mary as she leaned forward into the wind, her raven hair flowing behind her. 

As they came to a clearing upon the hill, Mary slowed to a stop, with Bash following just behind. She dismounted, clutching her horse’s reins in her hand. 

The castle was visible from here, and as she viewed the court under the cover of darkness, she noted the way the snow fell across the grounds and atop the stone towers. The rooms of French Court were mostly in darkness, but one caught Mary’s eye for being lit up. Through the window, she saw someone sitting at a desk writing furiously. She was too far away to make out specific features, but she noticed his curly blond hair falling around his shoulders.

“It’s such a beautiful evening, isn’t it?” She whispered into the quiet night, careful as to not break the tranquility. 

“I have seen many,” Bash replied, “but never one quite like this.” 

In his words were meaning, and Mary sensed them there, though unsure of what they truly meant. 

“Thank you for being a friend to me here.” Mary said softly, turning to face him. “I want you to know that I think of you most dearly.”

“As do I, you.” Sebastian hesitated, his frown etched into his handsome face. “You are to marry my brother someday soon.” He did not pose this as a question, but Mary felt the need to answer it anyway.

“Yes, although he does not seem to want to marry me. I can’t say I care for him much either.”

“You must try.”

The urgency in Bash’s voice caught Mary off guard, and she stepped towards him, searching his face. She sensed his sincerity. His bright eyes clouded over as Mary nodded with understanding. He appeared almost mindless as he stared out at nothing, his eyes wide and emotionless, his thoughts polluting his head.

“I feel you have the right to know,” Bash returned his attention to Mary. “before you marry him.”

Mary looked up at him, confused.

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t think I should tell you, but since you are to marry my brother soon, it’s only right that you should know.” Sebastian closed the gap between them, looking down into Mary’s glistening eyes. “I care for you, deeply. In truth, there is no one else I would rather be with than you.”

Mary’s face softened. She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t thought of Bash over the last few days at court, and he had been a great source of comfort to her. As she looked up at him, his dark figure, messy brown hair and bright blue eyes, she couldn’t help hearing Francis’ voice in her head. 

_Love is irrelevant to people like us._

Sebastian’s eyes grew wide when Mary did not respond, fearing the worst. 

“I thank you for your honesty and trust you will continue to tell me such thoughts.” 

Sebastian nodded. Although he was disappointed, this reaction was expected. 

_Us, who are privileged in so many ways but that._

“I am to marry your brother as soon as your father gives word, as that is my duty, to my country and my people.” Mary said, with the confidence a Queen should have, through her eyes were laced with sadness. “However, until then I hope we can be friends?”

“Good friends.” 

They both smiled weakly at one another, sharing the same sense of duty.

“You should spend more time with my brother.” Bash said, mounting his horse once more, as Mary did the same. “I know he can be arrogant at times, but he’s pure at heart. I should hope you can learn to love him, and he, you.”

“I shall try.”

_Love is irrelevant to people like us. Us, who are privileged in so many ways but that._


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary and Francis take a walk through the gardens, and she teaches him a seasonal Scottish game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short one today :)

The next few days went by quickly at court. Mary and Francis spent more time together and grew to care for each other. There was a certain wildness in Mary that Francis rarely saw in women, and he had found himself visiting Isabella’s chambers less. Aside from a few glances at court, Isabella had rarely been on the dauphin’s mind, for his thoughts were only of Mary. When she had travelled back to Italy, he was even somewhat relieved. 

Mary had not spoken to Bash since their midnight ride. They caught each others’ eye from time to time, but he always seemed to vanish before Mary had a chance to talk to him. 

As Francis walked with Mary through the gardens, he admired her smile, how she always laughed at his jokes, the way she walked with purpose, despite having no particular destination. Her dark hair glistened in the morning sun and her cheeks were pinkened by the cold. 

“Tell it again,” she laughed, “for I don’t think it could ever stop amusing me.”

“It is not difficult to make you laugh, it seems.” Francis smiled as Mary blushed. “I shall remember that.” 

Mary stopped walking and crouched to the floor, emerging again with a pile of snow in one hand.

“There is this game we play in Scotland, it’s called a snowball fight, perhaps you have heard of it too?” Mary said, turning the snow over in her hands to make a perfect snowball. 

“Enlighten me. What is this game?”

Mary giggled, thrusting the ball of snow at Francis. It hit his arm where it crumbled into pieces. Francis laughed, reaching down to make his own snowball. He threw it at Mary, who squealed, but missed and it landed on the floor. 

“For an archer your aim could use some work.” Mary teased. 

“Perhaps you could teach me.” 

Their eyes locked as Mary and Francis smiled at each other. Despite the numbing cold, neither of them wanted to go back inside just yet.

“Forgive me, majesties.” A voice sounded out through the gardens. Mary broke away from Francis’ gaze to address the servant standing before them. “There is a guest waiting for Mary in the Throne Room.” 

“Of course.” Mary replied. “Thank you.”

She began to follow the shivering servant back towards the castle but was stopped by a feeling deep down in her stomach. After pausing for a moment, she turned back to Francis. 

“This was lovely, Francis, thank you.”

Francis bowed his head and smiled. “I look forward to our next snowball fight.” 

Mary laughed and Francis revelled in the sound. As she turned to walk back to court, Francis thought of how he had succeeded at making her smile, a thought that pleased him very much.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the English threaten Scottish borders, will France step up and honour the alliance, or will Scotland have to find help elsewhere?

  
Raised voices rang out through the Throne Room and Mary was taken aback. She had been at French Court for a short while now but was yet to see behaviour like this. She could not make out what these voices were saying through the heavy wooden doors, but as she pushed them open, she soon became clear of the situation. 

“Scotland needs French troops. Is that not what an alliance is for?” Mary’s mother, Marie de Guise waved her hands in the air like she was conducting a choir.

Her black hair was piled high on her head and her usually pale complexion was red with frustration. It was not hard to tell where Mary got her beauty from. 

Sighing in annoyance, King Henry replied, “I will not risk an alliance at this time.”

“The English are storming our borders!” 

“France has borders too! Would you really be foolish enough to believe that England won’t turn the sword in our direction if we send in French troops for you?”

As Mary walked into the madness that was the Throne Room, she realised there were more than just her mother and King Henry present. Queen Catherine stood to the side of Henry, rubbing her temples, looking very irritated. A number of guards lined the walls and, amongst them was Bash, watching the conversation the way you would watch a pot that’s about to boil, expectantly but, in his case, a worried expression clouded his vision. 

“You are threatening to break this alliance, Henry!” Queen Catherine hissed at her husband. 

“Mary and Francis are to be wed today.” Marie de Guise stated, matter-of-factly. Bash’s eyes darkened and he lowered his head to look down at the floor. “These are my terms. They _will_ be married, and you _will_ give us the troops that we need. If not, Scotland will find an alliance elsewhere.” 

The King was practically shaking with anger, his fists clenched at his waist. He did not want to lose his alliance with Scotland, but he simply couldn’t afford to spare the men Scotland needed to protect their borders. “You must give me time.”

“To talk to your son?” Mary asked as all eyes turned to look at her. “Does Francis know of this little meeting? Or are you doing this behind his back.”

“Perhaps I could have a moment alone with my daughter while you reflect, Majesty.”

She bowed, almost mockingly, to the King, who huffed but did as she requested, ordering everyone outside with a wave of his hand. Mary held Bash’s gaze for a moment, before he followed his father out of the room. 

“My daughter,” Marie hugged Mary awkwardly and quickly. “It’s good to see you.” 

“You, too, mother.” Mary said. “The English?”

“Are storming our borders with force.” Marie finished. “We need 6 troops at least, and I’m not convinced France is going to give them to us.” 

Mary nodded understandingly. “We must find help elsewhere then.”

“Either that, or you wed the Dauphin of France. Tell me, dear, do you love him?”

Mary blushed. She thought of the morning they had spent together, the snowball fight and his charming smile. “I believe I could.” 

Marie de Guise raised her eyebrows, but smiled. “I pray you find love in your marriage, as I did in mine, to your father.”

Mary smiled. She prayed the same for herself. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary meets with Tomas of Portugal to discuss a political agreement and Greer prepares for the boating festival.

“I thank you for coming, You Grace, although this is a matter of extreme urgency.” 

Mary stood before the son of the King of Portugal, her hands clasping and unclasping in front of her. Her eyes darted about, distracted, as she tried to remain calm. 

“Of course, Majesty. I will be glad to help.” 

“Men, I need men, as many as you can spare.” Mary’s voice was fast paced. She clutched the railings of the bridge and squeezed hard, her knuckles turning white. The water below her raced down the stream almost as fast as her heart. “In return, I shall offer Portugal the timber you need to build your ships, more if that’s what it takes. Whatever deal you’ve made with the King, I will do better.” 

Under her mother’s orders, Mary was to find an alternative way to get the men she needed without France’s involvement. She had tried to speak with Francis, begged him even, to provide the troops Scotland so desperately needed, but he was like a puppet to his father. Everything he said and did was under strict orders from the King. Francis had promised to try his best to convince King Henry, but Mary feared she hadn’t the time to waste on broken promises.

Tomas of Portugal bowed his head politely. “My father told me to make whatever deal I thought best, and yours is not one for me to dismiss so easily. However, it is a tragic mistake to anger a king in his own court.” 

Mary nodded, understandingly, her heart racing. 

“Meet me this afternoon. We can make a deal then.” 

“Thank you, Your Grace, truly.” 

“Call me Tomas, please.” He smiled down at Mary who smiled back. “I can see you’re desperate. I shall not waste your time.” He announced, turning back towards the castle. “I will request a meeting with the King at once.” 

With that, he paced across the gardens, making haste towards the castle. As Mary watched him walk away, his cape billowing in the wind, she heard a voice from behind her. 

“Mary?”

She turned to see Greer, her fair face frowned and confused. She wore an array of flowers in her hair, clearly dressed to impress, with a silk gown and heeled shoes. 

“Greer! What a pleasant surprise.” Mary exclaimed, before holding out her arm to her. “Walk with me?” 

Greer accepted her invitation, linking her arm through Mary’s. As they crossed over the bridge and walked through the gardens, back to the castle together, Greer began to speak. 

“What were you doing with Tomas?” Her voice sounded concerned, and Mary detected a level of jealousy. 

“Just talking business. Why? Have you your eye on Tomas?” Mary nudged Greer’s shoulder, teasingly and Greer laughed. 

“I was thinking of inviting him to the Boating Party tomorrow evening.” she blushed.

“What a lovely idea!” Mary gushed and Greer nodded. 

“I was just picking some flowers to decorate the picnic basket with.” Greer reached into the pouch across her waist and pulled out a bunch of camellias. “I’ve already visited the kitchens and asked the kitchen boy for the finest tarts he can make.” Greer smiled, remembering her interaction with the kitchen boy earlier. 

Mary smiled at her friend’s excitement. “It sounds as though you've thought of everything.” 

“I hope for it to be a very romantic evening.” she said, placing the flowers back into her pouch. “He is the King of Portugal’s illegitimate son so I have a chance with him. I know an heir to the throne would never so much as look at me, but with Tomas, it’s different.” In her mind, she remembered the smell of baked apple waft from the ovens, how the sun shone through the small window, almost like a message from God Himself, and the half smile the kitchen boy wore while Greer talked to him. “He really sees me.” she finished. 

“I am happy for you.” Mary told her friend as they approached the door into the castle. “Truly, I am.” 

Greer smiled. Mary had been so kind to her ladies since they had arrived at court, they were all the best of friends now. 

“I’m going to go check up on everything in the kitchen.” Greer said. In her heart, she hoped to see the kitchen boy again. She curtseyed politely for Mary before hurrying down the halls. 

Now that Mary had secured negotiations for the troops that Scotland needed, she knew the next thing to do was to inform her mother of her deal with Tomas.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Francis learns of Bash's feelings for Mary and things get heated.

“Tell me, brother,” Francis panted, his hand gripped around the handle of his sword. “Why is it that you’ve been so distant at court?” He ducked as Bash swung his sword towards him. The sound of metal on metal rang out through the room. 

The half-brothers always looked forward to training on Saturdays. It was a time when they got to be alone together, something which did not happen often at Court. When Mary entered the room, both were a little surprised, but continued to swordfight nonetheless.

At seeing Mary, Bash felt an urge inside of him. A burning sensation similar to that of anger, but he was not angry. All at once, he forgot himself and was lost in the rhythmic beat of his own heart.

Bash lunged forward, his sword barely missing Francis’ arm. His brother looked up, confused but Sebastian kept going. Francis struggled to keep up with and block Bash’s hits, and before long, Francis was on the ground with Sebastian’s sword just inches from his throat. 

After putting his sword away, Bash held out his hand to help his little brother to his feet. Francis batted Sebastian’s hand out of the way and stood up on his own. His eyes sent questioning glances at Bash but his mouth said nothing. 

“Apologies for interrupting.”

“Not at all.” Bash said, before Francis had the chance. “Are you alright?” 

“I am afraid I have to cancel my plans with you this afternoon.” Mary said to Francis, an apologetic look crossing her face. “I know you were looking forward to our walk, as was I, but something came up.” 

“Nevermind,” Francis shrugged, trying his best to hide his disappointment. “There’s always tomorrow.” He couldn’t help feeling as though his older brother’s sudden outburst had made him look weak in Mary’s eyes. He had tried so hard to make a good impression on his fiancée and, almost as quickly as it came, it was gone. 

Mary nodded, curtseyed and turned towards the door. As soon as it had shut behind her, Francis turned furiously to his brother. 

“What on earth was that?” 

“What was what?” asked Bash calmly, testing the other swords on the rack.

“What is going on with you lately? You’re never here and when you are, it’s almost as though your mind is in a completely different place all together!” 

Bash lifted a sword out of the rack, turning it over in his hands. “There’s nothing going on with me.” He replied, placing the rack back on the stand. 

Francis felt his hand tighten around his own sword with frustration. “We are brothers. You are my blood.” Bash met his gaze and his heart softened. “Let that be the last lie you tell me.” Francis finished. 

“It’s Mary,” Bash looked to the floor, closing his eyes tightly.

“Mary? What of her?” 

With a deep breath, Bash looked back up to his brother and told him the truth. “I care for her, deeply. More than I should care for my brother’s fiancée.” 

Francis took a step backwards. His mouth was empty of all answers. “What?” 

“Fear not little brother, she cares for only you. When I told her of my feelings, she refused me.”

“She knows?” 

Bash simply nodded as Francis turned away from him, pushing his hand through his hair. As his other hand gripped his sword, he thought of how being stabbed with a blade would hurt less than this. He turned on his heels, raising his sword towards Sebastian’s throat. 

“This is treason.” His voice was low and hoarse at first. “I should run you through for this!” he shouted, his voice echoing through the room.

His expression faltered and, for a moment, neither brother said anything. All at once, Francis broke, crumbling to his knees. 

“You’ve always had everything I have ever wanted. The freedom to live as you please, our father’s love. And now Mary.” 

His voice was barely above a whisper, but Bash heard every word. 

“I think you should go.” 

“Brother-”

“Go. No goodbyes. No explanations.” Francis rose to his feet, pointing his sword at Sebastian. His eyes were wide with madness. “And if you ever come back, I’ll kill you myself.” 

As Bash walked towards the door, Francis followed him with his eyes. When his hand found the door handle, Bash stopped. He looked back at Francis for a moment before slipping out the door. Although he had said nothing at all, Francis knew what he meant.

In this moment, Bash thought less of himself than Francis did.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tomas of Portugal makes negotiations with Mary, but all does not go the way she expected.

The sun was a pleasant addition to what was already a glorious afternoon. Bare trees stood like lonely souls wandering the hills to find home, perhaps a warning to those travelling through. Snow glistened as far as the eye could see and crunched satisfyingly underfoot as Mary followed Tomas of Portugal across the open field.

“Where are we going?” Mary asked, struggling to keep up with Tomas for the snow.

“You’ll see.” Tomas’ voice was serious and stern, but Mary thought little of it.

“Have you decided whether to accept my offer?” Mary asked as Tomas slowed to a stop.

“I have.”

He turned to face Mary, his eyes filled with a certain glint that Mary did not recognise.

“Why have we come out here?” Mary asked, suddenly very aware that they were alone. The sun glistened through the naked branches of the trees and the wind whistled its warning.

“I wanted to be sure we’re out of earshot.”

Mary swallowed the lump in her throat, holding her own hand for comfort. When Tomas stepped towards her, Mary froze where she was standing, but her eyes grew wide for a moment. She watched, lost for words as he bent down onto one knee in the snow. He reached out for her hand, and she let him take it.

“Mary, Queen of Scotland, I have been searching for a woman like you. And now that I have seen you, I cannot look away.” Tomas presented a gold ring glittering with diamonds. “Marry me, and I will see to it that your people never go hungry again. The English will no longer threaten your borders and we shall live in peace.” Tomas slid the ring onto Mary’s finger. “Together, we will save Scotland.”

Mary stood before him, eyes wide, as she contemplated the decision she had before her. If she married Tomas, her country would be saved, but she would have to turn her back on the alliance with France. She would have to turn her back on Francis. Shaking the initial shock from her mind, she attempted to compose herself.

“Your offer is flattering, I assure you.” Mary was unsure what to say to the prince. “What about Greer?”

“What does Greer have to do with this?” Tomas asked, rising to his feet. “She’s a lovely girl but my father, the King of Portugal, is having me legitimised. I am to be the next King of Portugal. I couldn’t possibly marry her.”

Mary raised her eyebrows in disbelief. This was a lot to take in, and certainly not the way she thought things would turn out. When she closed her eyes, she saw a future with Francis, here at Court, not in some far off country, away from her friends, with a man she just met. Still, she wasn’t sure she had a choice. If this is what was needed to be done to save her country, Mary knew she’d go to any lengths.

“I shall talk to my mother at once. Until then, I pray you, please be discreet with your intentions. You were right before about the foolishness of angering a king at his own court.”

Tomas bowed his head politely, a smile forming on his face. “I shall wait eagerly for your mother’s reply.”

As they began to walk back towards the castle, Mary couldn’t help but think of Francis. She wasn’t sure how well he would take the news of Tomas’ proposal. On one hand, he had been fine courting other women before Mary came to Court, and he didn’t seem very disappointed when Mary cancelled their afternoon plans together. However, on the other hand, they had grown a lot closer over the past few days, and Mary thought of the promise she had made to Bash.

_You should spend more time with my brother. I hope you can learn to love him, and he, you._

_I shall try._


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't tell me cuz it hurts.

The night had been an excruciatingly long one, as Mary had awoken in fear of the demons that haunted her sleep several times.

In her dreams, she had been walking through a garden of roses, the wind in her hair and the sun shining down on her face. Walking beside her was a man without a face, cloaked in darkness.

The first time she had awoken from her dream, the man had reached down to pick a rose and had handed it to her. When he removed his hood, she saw that it was Tomas, the Portuguese prince.

The second time, the man had revealed himself to be Francis, his charming smile quickly turning into a look of horror as he fell to the floor in a pool of blood. 

When the man pulled back his hood for the third time, Mary saw Sebastian. His messy brown hair and bright blue eyes matched his charming smile and they kissed amongst the roses. They walked, arm in arm, as Mary rubbed her swollen belly, feeling the little prince inside of her kick in response.

Mary didn’t know what to make of these dreams, and for a while, she lay still in her bed, listening to her own steady breathing. Mary reached down to touch the ring that Bash had given her. She had kept it on a chain around her neck so that Francis wouldn’t see it. Fearing that sleep would once again take over her, Mary pulled back the covers and slid off the side of the bed onto the cold, stone floor.

As she edged towards the window, her eyes were drawn to a cloaked figure moving through the night. There was something familiar about the way he mounted his horse, his back straight and confident. When he rode down the same path that Mary and Bash had travelled down together, she knew it had to be him.

Why would Bash be leaving the castle so late? Was he going riding alone? 

Mary’s eyelids drooped and she stumbled back towards her bed. Her last thoughts were of Bash as her head became too heavy to hold and she fell back into the pillows, sleeping soundly. 

Mary awoke again to the sound of knocking coming from the door to her chambers. Startled, she tried to make sense of the situation. Sunlight filled the room and someone had left her breakfast tray at the edge of her bed.

The tea was cold. “Come in!” Mary called out. “What time is it?” 

Mary watched as the door creaked open and Francis slipped in, shutting it behind him. 

“Francis!” Mary cried in surprise, suddenly aware that she was wearing only her bed clothes. “I was expecting one of my ladies.” she mumbled, rubbing her head. 

“I’m sorry for arriving unannounced.” Francis said, keeping his distance from Mary, aware of her lack of clothing. His eyes caught a glimpse of the ring Mary wore around her neck and he couldn’t help but wonder if it was the same one that Bash had given her.

Taking the hint, Mary slipped behind her dressing screen to change. 

“When you didn’t show up to our afternoon walk in the gardens, I thought I would come see if you’re okay.” 

“Oh dear,” Mary’s voice sounded from behind the screen. “I was up all night with horrible night terrors. I must’ve overslept.” 

Francis watched, intrigued, as Mary tossed her nightdress across the top of the screen. 

“It’s alright, we can go tomorrow. There was something I wanted to ask you though.” Francis said, thankful that Mary couldn’t see the blush creeping onto his cheeks. 

“Of course, you can ask me anything.” Mary replied. 

“I wondered if you would be my date to the boating festival tonight?” After a moment of silence, Francis frowned. “Mary?”

Mary sighed softly, but Francis heard her nonetheless. “I’m terribly sorry, Francis. Really, I am.”

“You’re not attending?” Francis asked, confused. “The King shall want you to be there.” 

“I am going, just not with you.” Mary said, quietly.

“Well, then, who are you going with?” Francis asked as she stepped out from behind the screen. 

Her dark hair fell around her shoulders and her flowing purple gown hugged her chest and tumbled to the floor at her heeled shoes. Francis watched her graceful movements in awe as she pulled a brush through her hair. 

“Francis, I have to tell you something.” 

Francis nodded, lowering himself into a chair by the fireplace. 

Mary took a deep breath. “Tomas of Portugal has agreed to send in the troops that Scotland needs.”

“Well, that's wonderful, isn't it-”

“On the condition that I marry him.” Mary interrupted. 

Francis’ eyes grew wide for a moment before he laughed, nervously.

“Well, you can’t. That’s insane.” Francis watched Mary’s expression change from worry to guilt. He went pale before hanging his head in defeat. “You already accepted, didn’t you?” 

Mary nodded. “It’s what my mother wanted. You must understand Francis,” she said, moving towards him. “I did what I had to do to save my country.” 

She reached out her arm to touch Francis’ hand, but he pulled it away from her. He stood up quickly, his eyes looking at anything but Mary. Mary felt hot tears prick at her eyes.

“Congratulations,” Francis mumbled as he fled from the room. His hurried footsteps echoed down the corridor. 

“Francis!” Mary called after him. “Please wait!” Her voice caught in her throat as she let the tears roll down her cheeks. “Don’t go.” She whispered, falling to the floor as she wept.

Pulling her knees up to her chest, Mary’s sobs took over her and she shook, rocking back and forth slowly. She cried for her love for Francis. She cried for Bash. She cried for her home. She cried for her new fiancé.

She cried until she could no longer breathe.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary tells Greer of her engagement to Tomas, fearing her friend would be upset, but Greer has another man on her mind.

  
The evening came quickly, as Mary had slept through most of the day. Her ladies had helped her cover her tear stained face with a smile and she was ready to attend the boating festivities. Before the girls left, however, Mary needed to clear the air with Greer. 

“You go ahead, ladies. I need a word with Greer first.” 

Lola, Aylee and Kenna curtseyed before linking arms and walking out of the door, giggling all the while. Once the others were out of sight, Greer turned to Mary, who began to speak. 

“Greer, there’s something you should know.” Mary started, motioning with her hand for Greer to sit down. Greer obeyed, lowering herself into the chair by the fireplace. “Tomas asked me to marry him.”

Greer opened her mouth as if to respond but the words couldn’t reach her. She frowned in confusion. “But you’re marrying Francis?” 

Mary had to bite her lip to keep from crying. “No, I’m not. It seems that marrying Tomas is the only way to save Scotland from the English.” 

Greer saw the pain in her friend’s eyes. She knew Mary thought fondly of the young Dauphin and very little of the Portuguese Prince. 

“His father is having him legitimised so that he and I may someday rule Portugal together.” Mary continued. “Oh, Greer, I do hope you’re okay. I know you had your eye on him-”

“It’s no matter,” Greer assured Mary, reaching out to touch her arm. She ignored the tears that threatened to cascade down her cheeks like a waterfall. “If he is to be legitimised then I have no place with him anyway.” 

Despite Greer’s disappointment, she couldn’t help but feel excited to be staying at Court a little while longer. “Besides,” she continued, “I have met someone.” 

Mary’s eyes lit up, a smile forming on her face. “Why, Greer! That’s wonderful. You simply must tell me all about him.” 

“His name is Leith.” Greer said, sharing in Mary’s enthusiasm. “Nothing can really happen between us, as he is not of title, but I am enjoying our time together.”

Mary frowned slightly. “If he’s not of title, what is he doing at French Court?” 

Greer hesitated. She didn’t think Mary would be judgemental, just that she would try to convince her it was a bad idea. It was certainly dangerous, Greer knew that, but somehow, it seemed worth it. 

“He works in the kitchens.” Greer closed her eyes, preparing for Mary’s criticisms, but none came. 

“Does he make you happy?” 

Greer opened one eye, then the other, her fingers entwined in her lap.

“Incredibly so, yes.”

“Then what is a title to keep the two of you apart?”

Greer beamed at Mary’s approval. “Thank you.” 

Mary bowed her head slightly in response. “Now,” she stared, “Shall we?”

Greer nodded, standing up. The pair linked arms and made their way to the festival together. As they approached the business and chatter, Greer caught sight of Leith by the boats. She led Mary across the grass, where nobles danced and laughed, enjoying lively conversations. As they approached the boats, they watched as Leith cast one off, pushing it out into the water. When he turned around, he was startled to find people stood behind him, and jumped slightly.

“Greer?” he laughed as he realised it was her. “Who is your friend?”

“Leith, this is Mary, Queen of Scots.” Greer indicated at Mary with her arm.

Leith went pale. His grip tightened around the rope he held as he stammered, “Forgive me, Majesty.” He bowed awkwardly and Mary laughed comfortingly. 

“You must call me Mary, Leith.” She smiled and Leith nodded, gratefully. “Greer tells me you’re a favourite of hers?” She asked, teasingly. 

Leith laughed heartily. “That, I am.” 

“I shall leave you two alone then.” Mary bowed her head graciously to Leith before turning away from them. She touched Greer’s arm reassuringly as she walked away from the water. She smiled to herself when she heard Leith and Greer laughing together. He certainly was a pleasant young man, but Mary feared Greer would become too attached, and it would make marrying another man so much harder for her.

As Mary searched the field of festivities for Tomas, she heard a noise from behind her. Like a whisper, calling her name. She turned to see lines of trees casting dark shadows on the forest floor. At first, Mary thought nothing of it, remembering Sebastian’s warning from the first time they met. 

_I wouldn’t go in there if I were you. A young Queen has no place going into the woods alone._

When she heard the noise again however, her feet guided her into the darkened forest. 


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary ventures into the forest, followed by Tomas. What does he want now? Luckily, Francis is there to make sure everything's okay.

  
The wind whipped through Mary’s raven hair as she made her way through the woods, following the voice that called her name. In an attempt to keep warm, she wrapped her arms across her chest, shivering in the cold. The cracking of twigs behind her made her jump and she could feel her heart racing. She turned around slowly, letting out a breath as she saw Francis, sword in hand, a few feet behind her. 

“Mary?” he hissed. “What are you doing out here?” He lifted his sword into the air before pushing it back into his belt. 

“I thought I heard…” 

She trailed off as she felt Francis touch her arm, turning her around to face him.

“Are you alright?” 

Mary nodded, her shaking breath visible in the cold air. 

“My God, Mary! You’re freezing!” Francis shook off his jacket, wrapping it around Mary’s shoulders. She smiled, gratefully, pulling it across her chest. 

“What are you doing out here?” Mary asked. 

Francis blushed slightly, as he looked at the ground. “I was..uh, I was watching you at the party. When you came into the woods, Tomas had followed you. I was worried, that’s all.” 

Mary thought of how Francis had his sword drawn when he had found her. “You don’t trust him?” 

Francis scowled slightly, as he looked up from the ground. “You shouldn’t, Mary.” He reached out, taking Mary’s hands in his. “You shouldn’t marry him.” 

Mary watched the desperation in Francis’ eyes, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall down her cheeks. “I don’t have a choice.” she whispered, looking away from him. 

“There is always a choice.” He matched Mary’s quiet tone. His hands found Mary’s face, cupping her cheeks. “I know you don’t love him, Mary.” he said, brushing away her tears. “The question is, do you love me?” 

As their eyes met, Mary broke, throwing her arms around Francis’ neck. His warmth comforted her as she wept into his shoulder. Francis held her, brushing his hands through her hair and breathing her in.

When Mary pulled away, her face stained with tear streaks, she spoke softly to Francis. “I am the Queen of Scotland.” Her fingers brushed his face, tracing his cheek bones gently. “I have to do what’s right for my country.” 

Francis placed his hand on Mary’s and she stopped stroking his face, looking into his eyes. “Do you love me, Mary?” 

Mary stepped away from Francis, pulling her hands away too. She carefully shook Francis’ jacket off her shoulders and held it out for him. “Love is irrelevant to people like us.” 

Mary turned away from him and began walking back to the festivities. As she emerged from the trees, the lights of the party lit up her face, returning her warmth. Suddenly, she didn’t feel like celebrating. 

Mary caught sight of Aylee standing alone at the table of food. Walking quickly, she appeared at Aylee’s side. 

“Walk with me?” 

Aylee smiled warmly and nodded, placing the slice of tart she was eating back on the table. She linked her arm into Mary’s. Together, they walked back into the castle, eager for some alone time in Mary’s chambers. 


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Mary and Aylee arrive at her chambers, they are greeted by an unwelcome guest.

  
As Mary pushed open the door to her chambers, she was surprised to see a figure stood before the lit fire. 

“Tomas,” she said, shutting the door behind herself and Aylee. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

The light from the fire shone onto him, casting eerie shadows across his face, and the flames danced in his eyes. 

“You seem to think ours is an open engagement.” Tomas started, turning towards Mary, revealing a small, timid man stood to the side of him. “You would be wrong.” 

He took three menacing steps towards the girls, the smaller man following closely behind. 

“What are you suggesting?” Mary asked bravely, her voice wavering slightly. 

“Are you familiar with whipping boys?”

Mary’s eyes widened, “Some Scottish Lords have them yes-” 

“Good.” Tomas interrupted. “This is Miguel.” He turned towards Miguel, striking him across the face with the back of his hand. “That was for questioning me.” he said, turning back to Mary. 

“Well, I hardly think that’s-” 

Tomas struck Miguel again, and Mary stopped mid sentence, her hands clutching her stomach. 

“That was for interrupting me.” Tomas explained. “Shall I continue?” 

Mary glanced at Miguel who begged her with his eyes to obey the Portaguese Prince. Mary nodded, wordlessly. 

“You’re not to talk to the dauphin again without my permission.” Tomas loomed over Mary and Aylee, coming too close to Mary for comfort. “Are we clear?” 

Mary swallowed the lump in her throat, holding her head up high. “Yes, your Grace. Quite clear.” Her fists clenched at her side.

Tomas stood over her a moment longer, before motioning for Miguel to follow him out of the door. He obeyed, scurrying down the corridor after his master. Mary let out a breath as Aylee clutched her hand. 

“You can’t marry him!” she cried. “Please, Mary, you simply can't!” 

Mary squeezed Aylee’s hand, turning to look at her. 

“What choice do I have? It’s the only way to save Scotland.” 

Aylee nodded, defeated. She did not want to stay up here, with the mood Tomas had left. The lit fire caused shadows to dance across the walls and Mary dropped her hands back down to hold her stomach, and the two girls watched them in silence for a while. 

“The dance.” Aylee remembered. “The dance will be starting soon.” 

Mary nodded. Although she dreaded the thought of dancing with Tomas in front of Francis, she knew that her new fiancé would expect her to be there, and she did not intend to make him angry again. 

Plastering a smile onto her face, Mary took Aylee’s hand once more. “Come on.” she said, trying her best to sound optimistic. “Let’s go dance, yes?” 

Aylee smiled halfheartedly and nodded. Holding onto her hand tighter, Aylee followed Mary down to the Great Hall. 


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tomas is a jerk (what's new?), Bash returns to Court and Francis tells Mary to marry Tomas. Just another day in the life of a Queen I guess XD

  
“Settle down!” King Henry’s voice bellowed through the busy hall. “Silence everyone!” The crowd turned their attention to the King. “Before we continue with the usual festivities, I have an announcement to make. The traitor who has been sharing French secrets with the English has been caught.” He motioned with his hand and two guards came forth, dragging the English ambassador between them.

After the guards had tossed him onto the floor before the King, he continued to speak. “This traitor will be executed tonight!” 

The horrified crowd applauded uncomfortably, not wishing to anger the King. 

“Now, let us dance! Music?” he clapped and the band began to play a lively tune. The crowd happily dispersed into chatter, finding partners to take to the dance floor.

“May I have this dance?” Mary turned to see Francis standing before her, offering his hand to her.

“Francis, I-”

“I’m afraid she already has a dance partner.” Tomas interrupted, appearing as if from nowhere. “Her fiancé. Last time I checked, that was me, not you.” 

Francis bowed his head, respectfully. “Of course.”

“Mary?” Tomas roughly took Mary’s wrist, pulling her onto the dance floor. 

His hand gripped her waist firmly, holding her body close to his. 

“It seems you’ve forgotten everything we talked about.” he fumed, angrily. “I hope I do not have to summon Miguel to make you see reason.” 

Mary squirmed uncomfortably at Tomas’ touch, and he gripped her harder in return. Mary yelped slightly from the pain. 

“Your grip is a little tight, my lord.” she said politely, refusing to meet his eye. 

“No tighter than your former fiancé, I’m sure.” Tomas hissed into Mary’s ear. 

Mary pulled away from him, her heart racing in her chest. 

“Excuse me,” she curtseyed, hurrying out of the room. 

As she burst through the door into the gardens, the cold air hit her face, stinging her cheeks. Traces of snow covered the branches of the apple trees, but most of it had melted. Mary tried to take deep breaths, but they caught in her throat. 

“Mary?” 

Hearing a voice behind her, Mary composed herself. After taking a final breath, she turned to see who the voice belonged to. 

“Bash!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. “Where have you been?” she asked, pulling away. “I feel as though I haven’t seen you in days.” 

She thought of the night she saw Bash ride away from the castle, frowning. 

“I left. It seems my feelings for you were the source of much discomfort for Francis.” 

“Francis? But he didn’t mention…” Mary trailed off, realising her questions didn’t require answers. “I’ve missed you.”

“As have I, you.” Bash smiled, warmly. “So, tell me, when are you and my brother to be wed?” 

“Mary is no longer my future bride.”

Bash turned to see Francis leaning against the door frame.

“Brother.” Francis greeted Sebastian emotionlessly. “I allowed you to leave with your life, and here I find you with Mary once more.” He stepped down onto the path in front of Bash, his hand gripping the handle of his sword. “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t end you right now.”

“Francis!” 

Bash looked at Mary reassuringly before turning back to his brother.

“When you hear what I have to say, I think you may be thankful I returned.”

Francis raised his eyebrows, dropping his hands to his side as he took another step towards Sebastian. “Is that so?” 

“I have news of the traitor to France. The English ambassador is innocent.” 

Mary frowned, “But they plan to execute him tonight!” Mary’s voice was filled with worry.

“Then I suppose we ought to hurry.” Bash said, turning towards the door. 

“Wait a minute.” Francis held out his arm to block his brother’s way. “Why should I trust you?” 

“Because,” Bash started, pushing past Francis, “if you don’t, an innocent man will die.” 

Francis nodded in understanding. “Well, go alert the King at once.” 

Sebastian nodded, disappearing through the door. Mary brushed past Francis to follow Bash, but was stopped when Francis gently grabbed her arm.

“Mary, wait.” 

She turned to meet his eyes. Francis hesitated for a moment before cupping Mary’s cheeks with his hands and pressing his lips onto hers. Mary did not pull away as she closed her eyes and brought her hands up into his hair. In this moment, everything seemed to disappear as Francis touched her soft skin with his hands, desperate to feel that she was real.

When their lips separated at last, Francis pressed his forehead against hers, refusing to let go of her waist just yet. Francis’ grip was softer than Tomas’ and his intentions were certainly clearer. This was the life Mary wanted for herself.

“You should marry Tomas.” 

Mary opened her eyes, looking up into Francis’. She said nothing, her hands clinging to the collar of his shirt. She didn’t want Tomas. She wanted Francis. 

“I haven’t been thinking clearly.” Mary brought a hand up to stroke Francis’ cheek. His eyes were wide and filled with pain. 

“That’s not true. You’ve been trying to help me.” Mary said, softly.

“I can’t help you!” Francis’ voice was loud and edged with anger, and Mary stepped backwards, her eyes wide. “France can’t help. There are no troops to send.” His voice was calmer now, defeated. “You should do what’s right for your country.” 

Mary hesitated, watching Francis’ desperate eyes, before her realisation sunk in. “You can’t be serious.” Mary whispered, quietly. “You want me to marry Tomas?” 

Francis looked away as Mary searched his face for answers. “Francis-”

“Can you say that I’m wrong?” Francis shouted desperately, with tears in his eyes.

Mary was taken aback, too shocked to call after him as Francis turned and walked back into the dance. Bringing her hand to her face, she traced her lips with her fingers, remembering how Francis’ lips had felt against hers. 

_Love is irrelevant to people like us._


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bash and Francis have a brotherly moment <3

“Francis!” Bash’s hurried footsteps echoed through the halls as he skidded to a stop beside Francis.

The rising sun shone through the windows, casting light on Francis’ tired eyes and clothes from last night. He had spent the remainder of the night wandering about the castle like a ghost, and he was yet to find his bed.

“The execution has been rescheduled to this evening.” Bash panted, out of breath. “That means we have the whole day to find proof of the English Ambassador’s innocence!” 

Francis did not match Sebastian’s enthusiastic manner, his face emotionless and his body stiff. “Good luck with that.” he muttered. 

“You’re not helping me, brother?”

“Why would I help you? You betrayed me in the cruellest way possible.” Francis’ voice was small and sad, and Bash looked to the ground, ridden with guilt. “To allow you to live is one thing but to help you? No. I think I’ll be much more helpful if I stay out of the way.”

“And let an innocent man die? Some Great King you are.” Bash said, searching for a way to motivate Francis.

All at once, Francis snapped. His hands gripped the collar of his brother’s shirt as he pushed him against the stone walls, screaming. “I am not a Great King! I am not!” He pulled Bash away from the wall with his shirt, just to push him back against it angrily. His eyes were wide and wild, edged with anger, fear, sadness. “I thought perhaps I could be.” his voice broke, hot tears blurring his vision. “But I’m making all the wrong decisions.” 

Francis pulled Bash’s shirt more gently this time, and placed his head on Bash’s chest. Before Sebastian could understand the situation, Francis was already sobbing quietly. As Francis had never cried in front of him before, Bash was unsure of how to respond. He wrapped his arms around his little brother, holding him protectively at his chest. 

Francis broke away, wiping his face with his sleeve.

“Are you alright, little brother?” Bash asked, tentatively. 

Francis looked up at Sebastian and half smiled. “Well, what are we doing standing around here? We only have until nightfall to prove this man innocent.”

Bash smiled fully and completely, his eyes lighting up for a moment. “We?” 

Francis nodded, nudging his brother gently and laughing. Bash had truly never been more proud of his brother than in this moment. It is this kind of strength that a Great King needs.

“Alright,” Bash said, “so what’s the plan?”


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary bids farewell to Queen Catherine as she prepares to sail away with Tomas to Portugal.

As Catherine sat at her desk, she thought of how different French Court used to be. When Francis and Mary were only children, they would race about the castle, so carefree, laughing all the while. Now Catherine’s home was a place of marriage, planning wars and dancing for no reason other than they were rich enough to do whatever they pleased.

She thought of a time when she and her husband were deeply in love, sharing in the buds of passion that many of the younger members of Court do now. Catherine was young once. Often, she forgot what it felt like to be young and in love, but every once in a while, she would gaze upon the King and remember the love she had in her heart for him. 

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. 

“What is it?” she called out, slightly irritated by the interruption. 

A large guard stepped into the room. “Forgive me, Majesty. Queen Mary wishes to speak with you.” 

Catherine smiled to herself. She often enjoyed taunting Mary, as she very much reminded her of a young Queen Catherine. “Send her in.” 

Lifting a ruby earring to her face, Catherine compared the colour to her dress. She did not look up when Mary entered, instead her eyes were busy with her own reflection in the mirror. 

“I’m sorry to disturb you.” 

“Not at all, Mary. You’re much welcome here.” Catherine said, turning to face Mary with a big fake smile plastered onto her face. 

Her smile slipped quickly from her face, however, when she looked upon Mary’s face. 

“Good Heavens, Mary!” she shrieked, standing up and quickly rushing to Mary’s side. “What happened to you?” Her face went as white as snow for a moment as she asked, quietly, “Did my Francis do this to you?” 

Mary shook her head quickly. “No, he would never.”

Catherine’s fingers gently stroked the reddened mark that stretched across Mary’s cheek.

“Mary, you must tell me who has done this to you.”

Mary took Catherine’s hand in hers squeezing it gently. “Never mind it, Catherine.” she smiled reassuringly. “I’m alright, truly. That’s not what I’m here to talk to you about.”

“What’s on your mind, child?”

Catherine had always been against her eldest son’s marriage to the Scottish Queen, but she had nothing against Mary herself. In fact, she had a soft spot for her, as Mary reminded Catherine of herself.

“I have come to say goodbye.” Mary said, simply. She held her head high but her eyes were laced with sadness. “I shall not see you at dinner tonight, as Tomas and I are leaving for Portugal this very evening.” 

Catherine smiled, bittersweetly. “I am not happy with you for taking away my only amusement.” Catherine joked, and Mary laughed heartily. “Still, I wish you the best of luck on your travels. May God travel with you.” 

Mary embraced Catherine and, although brief, the interaction meant a great deal to both women. The two smiled together for the last time before Mary made her way back to the door. She pulled her hood up around her neck to conceal the mark on her face and swung the door open. Before she left, however, she turned back to Catherine. 

“Could you say goodbye to Francis? I’m not sure I could bear to see him knowing I never will again.” Mary asked. “Tell him I shall miss him dearly and think of him every day.”

Catherine nodded in understanding as Mary took a final glance around the room. 

“I shall miss this place. France will forever be my home.” 

With that, Mary disappeared out of the door, her footsteps echoing down the halls.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary watches the snow fall out of her window at French Court for the last time.

Mary watched as the snow fell in flakes outside her window. The afternoon sun cast a yellow glow across the fields and Mary enjoyed the view very much. She was glad to be alone, having spent the evening wishing tearful farewells to everyone at Court. Something about the sincerity of her dire situation made the countryside seem much more beautiful in Mary’s eyes.

Although she had not been at French Court long, Mary felt she had made a home for herself, and was upset to have to leave it all. She wasn’t going to spend her last few moments at the castle in tears and moping though. No, Mary was looking for some fun. 

Mary looked up as she heard the door to her chambers open quickly. Tomas often walked in unannounced, and Mary had grown quite used to it. Although she was not happy with it, she feared saying something would result in angering him. 

“Aren’t you going to greet your fiancé?” Tomas’ voice called out, breaking Mary’s peaceful silence. 

She stood up quickly, rushing over to stand by his side. Tomas smiled, pleased with the power he held over Mary. He grabbed her waist, pulling her in and kissing her roughly. Mary let him, saying nothing. 

“We shall be leaving soon and you haven’t finished packing.” Tomas noticed, his voice filling with frustration. 

“I thought we could enjoy our last afternoon together at Court. Perhaps a walk in the snow?” Mary spoke up, quietly. “There’s this game we play in Scotland. It’s called a snowball-”

“There will be no games today.” Tomas interrupted, his voice stern. “You aren’t leaving this room until every case is packed, do you hear me?” 

Mary nodded, defeated. Satisfied, Tomas turned and marched out of the door, leaving Mary alone in her room once more.

Mary did not mind being alone, her thoughts racing like the snow outside. She thought of the day she had spent in the snow with Francis, throwing snowballs at each other and erupting into laughter. She remembered how it felt to be truly happy. Her heart sank as she realised she may never feel happiness again, for she may never see Francis again and he brought her such happiness. 

As she gazed at the falling snow, she felt a strange feeling in her stomach. Like the world she thought she knew would somehow suddenly change for ever.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian and Francis manage to prove the English Ambassador innocent. But you'll never guess who the real traitor is (unless you've watched reign...XD)
> 
> This is a short one because the next one is quite long.

As the sun set over the trees, the snow began to stop falling, leaving a soft blanket on the ground. The wind blew in flurries through Francis’ hair as he crossed through the courtyard and into the stables. Calling his brother’s name, he paused, waiting for an answer. After a moment of pause, one came.

“Francis, I’m out here.” 

Francis followed the voice through the stables and out the other side, where he saw Sebastian stood before a furnace. He held his sword over the fire, brushing it down with a metal rock.

“The Court believes the alibi,” Francis started, “but without proof of who the traitor really is, they say father will execute him anyway.” 

Francis was surprised to see Bash grin from ear to ear at this news. 

“Fear not, little brother. I received two very important letters today. One from a young lady who says she witnessed the whole event and is willing to come forth and talk.” Bash explained, pulling the blade out of the fire and thrusting it into a bucket of water. The sword hissed in response, letting off steam. 

“That’s wonderful!” Francis exclaimed. “Who is the second letter from?”

“A man named Miguel. He says he has been working in service for the past few weeks and also witnessed everything. He is willing to speak openly if we honour him with royal protection.” 

Francis clasped his hands together, raising his head to look at the clouds above. “You did it, brother.” 

“We did it.” 

“Now that we have the witnesses we need, should we take the news back to Court?” Francis asked, his eyes alive with the thrill of it all. 

“Yes,” Bash said, lifting the sword from the bucket and inserting it back into his belt, “but be careful. Tomas of Portugal is still a guest of the crown.” 

Francis froze. His face paled as his eyes met with Sebastian’s. “What?” His voice was quiet and low. “Tomas is the traitor?” 

Sebastian nodded, confused.

“He is the man Mary is to wed! She is sailing away to Portugal with him this very evening!” 

Bash’s eyes widened as his heart began to race in his chest. “Francis, he is a dangerous man. He will kill in cold blood to get what he wants.” 

“You don’t think he’d…?” Francis swallowed the lump in his throat, unable to finish his question. “We must get down to the docks before they set sail.” 

Bash nodded, rushing into the stables. 

Within moments, the brothers had mounted their horses and begun to ride out towards the harbour. The wind whipped across Bash’s face, and his eyes watered, but he didn’t care. In this moment, all that mattered to him was Mary.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Francis and Bash head towards the harbour, but will they make it in time?
> 
> (Yes)

Mary gripped the railings with white knuckles. As she gazed out across France for the last time, she tried to ignore the bustle and business as crew members prepared the boat to sail. Portugal seemed so far away to Mary. 

She fondly remembered when she first arrived at the harbour some months ago, and how nervous she had been to live at French Court. How sad she was now to be leaving.

She did not look up when Tomas marched over to stand beside her. He took her hand and Mary let him, trying to concentrate on bidding her childhood home goodbye.

“Pardon me, my lord.” Tomas turned to acknowledge the sailor stood before him. “We are ready to depart.”

Tomas waved his hand about in the air carelessly. “Yes, yes. Just get us out of here. The sooner we get to Portugal, the sooner Mary and I can be wed.”

The sailor nodded, scurrying off to alert the rest of the crew. All of a sudden, Mary felt sick to her stomach, and she knew it wasn’t the waves crashing against the boat that caused her nausea.

“Wait!” 

Mary and Tomas looked up in unison as they heard horse hoofs against the wooden planks of the harbour. Mary watched with a bemused expression as Francis and Bash lept from their horses, boarding the ship and drawing their swords. 

“This boat is not to set sail, by order of the crown.” 

The crew members who had been scurrying about on the top deck froze, unsure of their new orders. Mary stepped forward, pulling her hand away from Tomas’. Francis frowned, noticing the mark across Mary’s face before glaring up at Tomas, his eyes burning with anger. He clenched his jaw as his fingers gripped the handle of his sword.

As if reading his mind, Bash whispered. “Let it go, little brother. We can worry about that later.” 

“What is the meaning of this?” Tomas demanded, as he pulled Mary by the arm back to his side. 

“You are a traitor to France.” Bash said, his eyes fiery with the same anger as his brother. “You must return to Court immediately to state your case.” 

A moment of fear flashed across Tomas’ face, before his eyes turned dark again. Presenting a knife from his belt, he pulled Mary towards him, holding the blade to her throat. Mary struggled against him but his grip was tight. 

“Let Mary and I sail away to Portugal together and you will never have to see me again.” Tomas proposed. “If not…” He gripped Mary tighter, the blade just inches from her neck. “Well, let’s just say I can easily find another bride.” 

Bash glanced around the ship desperately. All he really needed was a distraction. As his eyes settled on the main mast of the ship, he knew he’d found just that. He turned to Francis briefly enough to alert him that he had a plan, before lunging forward and swinging his sword towards the mast. As he had planned, the rope hanging from the mast sliced and broke, causing a part of the wooden post to break away and swing on the rope towards the group. Tomas ducked, pushing Mary away from him, and she fell down into the pile of wooden crates. 

“Don’t kill him, we need his confession.” Sebastian called out to his brother. 

Tomas stood up, lifting his sword from his belt as Francis advanced towards him. The sound of metal hitting metal rang out through the ship as the crew members watched intently. 

As Bash knelt down to help Mary, he watched as Tomas pushed Francis forwards, sending him tumbling to the ground and his sword flying. Tomas approached Francis, holding his sword about his head threateningly. Thinking quickly, Francis pulled a dagger from his belt and, standing up, he plunged it into Tomas’ chest. 

The knife fell from Francis’ hand as he watched Tomas drop to his knees, the life bleeding out of him. 

“Death is not supposed to be easy.” Francis looked up as his brother spoke to him. “If your hands weren’t shaking, you’d be him.” As Francis looked down again, he saw that his hands were trembling, the blood staining his skin. He shook his head quickly, ridding the thought from his mind, and hurried over to where Sebastian held an unresponsive Mary. 

“She’s alright.” Bash assured his brother.

Francis’ eyes widened as he saw the blood that stained Bash’s hands. Kneeling down, he reached out to touch the red mark across Mary’s paled skin, and in this moment, he was glad Tomas was dead.

“Let’s take her to Nostradamus.” Bash said, his voice soft and calming. “He’ll know what to do.”

Francis nodded in understanding. There was blood, so much blood. Was this really the price of justice?


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When intruders invade the castle, Mary has to be brave, despite her ill health.

Over the next few days, the castle was buzzing with the news of Francis’ heroic victory over Tomas. Almost everyone knew of the Portuguese Prince’s vile manner and, to Mary’s dismay, the way he had treated the young Queen. 

To keep peace with Portugal, King Henry told the King of Portugal that his son had died heroically on a hunting quest, and had travelled with most of the guards and lords to personally console him on the loss of his only son. Francis had stayed in the castle to oversee any political matters that needed royal attention.

While Nostradamus had nursed her well, Mary had still not left her chambers since that evening. Bash had visited her often before he travelled away with his father, as did her ladies, but she had not seen much of Francis since he saved her life.

As Mary stared up at the ceiling, she remembered how she had danced with Francis, how her body fit perfectly with his, how his eyes glistened when he smiled and how his lips felt against hers. Sunlight shone in through the open window and she listened to the birds call out to each other. She imagined hearing Francis’ voice calling her name in the wind, but she knew it was all in her head.

Her eyelids grew heavy, and before she knew it, she had fallen into a restless sleep. 

When she awoke again, it was night-time, and the open window had caused the room to chill as the sun had set. The light from the moon cast an eerie glow across her bed sheets and Mary blinked, rubbing her eyes. Her head hurt still from her fall aboard Tomas’ ship, but she ignored the pain as she slid out of bed to shut the window. 

Shivering, she pulled the window close but froze as she saw a cloaked figure ride towards the castle on horseback. At first, she thought he was Bash and wanted to call out to him, but stopped herself. Something didn’t feel right. 

She watched, wild-eyed, as troops of men emerged from the trees, following the cloaked man’s command. Mary stepped away from the window, afraid of being seen, and rushed to her door, grabbing her bed robe off the back of her chair on her way out. 

Her footsteps clattered through the halls as she ran, skidding to a halt at the door of Queen Catherine’s chambers. She ignored the aching in her head as she pounded on the door.

When the Queen did not answer, Mary burst into the room, scanning it quickly to locate Catherine. She lay tangled in the sheets of her bed, sleeping soundly. 

“Catherine!” Mary shrieked, rushing over to the side of the bed. Catherine’s eyes opened quickly, and she sat up.

“Good Heavens, Mary!” she rubbed her eyes, looking up at the young Queen. “You should not be behaving in this way with your condition!” She rose from the bed, walking over to her desk, adding sarcastically, “You should not be behaving in this way regardless.”

Mary ignored Catherine’s snide comment, the desperation filling her voice. “Catherine, there are intruders in the castle!” 

Catherine turned to look at Mary, her eyes wide. 

“At least a hundred men.”

“Henry took most of our guards with him to Portugal.” Catherine muttered under her breath. “We’re outnumbered.”

The realisation sunk in, that this would not end well.

“What are we to do?” Mary asked, quietly.

Catherine began to pace the room, stopping briefly to look down at the parchment on her desk.

“All we can do is negotiate. Perhaps these intruders will leave us in peace with a little motivation.” 

Mary nodded in understanding, her eyes still wide with fear. 

“Go back to your room and stay there.” Catherine said, firmly. “I’ll go see what these brutes want.”

Mary nodded again, turning back towards the door. 

“Catherine?” the Queen looked up at Mary. “Be careful.” 

“I always am, dear.” 

Mary smiled half heartedly before slipping out of the door, closing it quietly behind her. By the time she made it back to her room, she could already hear the commotion outside. Heavy footsteps walked quickly down the halls and low voices shouted to one another.

Mary stood helplessly by her window, looking out into the night sky and silently praying for a miracle.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Count Vincent seeks revenge on the French Royals, but his stakes are high.

“Count Vincent, to what do we owe this unexpected visit?”

Francis entered the throne room during the early hours of the morning. He had heard of the intruders to the castle, but didn’t quite believe it until the Count’s men had made an unexpected entrance to his chambers. 

“Francis, what are you doing here?” his mother hissed. 

“I had my men bring him here, I hope you don’t mind.” Count said, knowing the Queen would never object.

“Not at all, Count.” Catherine smiled between gritted teeth.

Francis felt his temper growing short. He clenched his fists and tried to fight back the urge to take on the Count, knowing he was outnumbered. 

“Tell me, what can we do for you?” Catherine asked politely.

“Did you ever meet my son?” Count Vincent asked. “Your husband had him arrested and held in your cells.” 

Catherine’s expression changed from fake politeness to fake sympathy, her eyes desperately looking at Francis across the room. 

“I paid a fortune to have him released and sent back to me.”

Catherine, smiled, clasping her hands together. “Well, at least you-”

“He died on the journey home.”

The smile slipped from Catherine’s face, and she rolled her eyes slightly, cursing Henry’s wrath under her breath. “I’m so sorry, Count Vincent.” she reached out to touch his arm, but the Count pulled it away from her.

“I don’t want your condolences!” Count Vincent shouted, anger filling his voice. “I’m here for revenge.” 

Catherine swallowed the lump in her throat. “Money. We can give you money.” She walked hurriedly to the back of the room where a chest filled with gold coins sat atop a wooden table. 

“No!” Count Vincent’s shout rang out through the room. “I don’t want your Medici money. I want my son.” 

“My Lord,” Catherine walked back towards him, slowly, “What can we give you?” she held her hands out in front of her. “What about…” Her mind raced, searching for a solution. “A Scottish Queen.” She looked up, her eyes gleaming.

“What?” Francis looked up quickly at his mother.

Catherine ignored her son’s gaze and continued to address the Count. “Imagine having a Queen as a hostage. Scotland will do anything to get her back.”

“No, mother.” Francis’ voice filled with desperation as he realised this would be an offer the Count would consider. 

Count Vincent smirked and nodded. 

“No, you want a hostage? Take me.” 

Catherine looked up at Francis. “Francis, don’t.”

“The dauphin, heir to France. Does that compensate for the loss of your son?” 

The Count waved his hand in the air, and two guards entered the room. "Finally, a serious offer." To Catherine’s horror, the guards grabbed Francis by the arms and dragged him out of the door. A sickening smile formed across Count Vincent’s face as he began to follow his guards out of the room.

“Please don’t hurt him.” Catherine begged, calling after the Count.

He turned back to the Queen. “I lost a son because of you.” He turned away, his voice echoing through the halls. “Prepare to lose one, too.”


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary visits Francis to convince him to go along with Queen Catherine's plan.

Francis looked up as the door to the room he’d been pacing opened quickly. Mary entered, accompanied by one of Count Vincent’s men. 

“You have two minutes.” the guard declared, his voice low and gruff as he shut the door behind Mary. 

“Francis, I just heard what is happening.” Mary said, her voice low and soft. Her footsteps sounded on the stone floor as she walked over to him. “Not your brothers too.”

Francis stopped pacing, resting his arms on the wooden table by the window. He glanced over at his two young brothers, who sat playing in front of the fireplace.

“The Count was in here earlier.” Francis said. “He actually played with Charles for a few minutes.” Francis regained his posture, turning towards the fire and away from Mary. “You would think that someone who played with a child would enjoy it, but his eyes were dead.” His fists clenched at his side as he took a deep breath.

After a moment, Francis released the breath, defeated. “Gold is useless. He’s lost his line.” Bringing his hands up to his head, he ran them through his hair. “He wants to take my father’s in return.” 

Mary took this moment as an invitation to move towards Francis, touching his hand with hers. 

“You must agree to our plan, Francis.” 

“The plan is madness.” Francis’ eyes were wide and wild, as though he had driven himself mad. He pulled his hand away from Mary’s, turning to face away from her again. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. And you’re asking me to leave you with him?” Francis shook his head, sighing. “And my mother? You know you can’t trust her.” 

Mary followed Francis with her eyes as he began to pace the room again. 

“The first thing I’ll do if I get out of this room is come for you.” Francis continued, his jaw set firmly. 

Mary sighed softly as she walked over to where Francis now stood. “If you come for me, they will kill you.” She gripped Francis’ arm and he turned his head to look at her. 

He bent down slightly to her level and gripped her shoulders, desperation in his eyes. “Mary, I will not leave you.” He shook his head, determinedly. “This is not negotiable.” His eyes softened as his grip on her loosened. “Mary, I…” 

Mary held her breath. He loved her. He didn’t need to say it. She already knew. 

“I know.” she said, softly.

Francis hung his head in defeat, closing his eyes. “I’m sorry.” He lifted his head back up to look at her. “I’m sorry about Bash, about all the foolish ways I’ve tried to manage things.” 

Mary shook her head, taking his hands in hers. “None of that matters now.” Her voice was soft but filled with urgency, as she knew her two minutes in the room with Francis were nearly up. “Your brothers, everyone else who’s trapped in this castle, they are your people now.”

Francis sighed, turning away from Mary to think. 

“If we are to rule as King and Queen together, we must trust each other to do what’s necessary.” Mary said, as he sighed deeply. 

Francis clasped and unclasped his hands, a habit he had picked up from his mother. 

“I believe you can lead us all to safety.” 

The light from the fire danced in Francis’ eyes as he watched his little brothers playing, blissfully unaware of the danger they were both in. 

“You have to believe that I can get myself out of that room.” 

“My God, Mary.” Francis turned back to her, cupping her cheeks with his hands as his lips pressed against hers. 

As they pulled away, both Mary and Francis kept their eyes tightly closed, listening to one another’s steady breathing.

“Promise me you won’t come back.” 

Francis opened his eyes, looking down at Mary. He hesitated, but before he could respond, the door opened and the guard stood expectantly at the door. Mary nodded her head to him, respectfully, as she pulled away from Francis. 

Francis shot daggers with his eyes at the guard, but remained where he stood, standing his ground. He watched in dismay as Mary left the room with the guard, never turning back, and he only broke his high-headed stance once the door had shut behind them. 

Francis looked over to his brothers, who now stood watching him from across the room. He wanted with all his might to tell them everything would be okay, but he couldn’t. As the fire flickered, Francis’ hard expression softened, leaving him defeated in the centre of the room.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Count Vincent's men have no table manners as they enjoy a feast prepared as a distraction so that everyone could escape Court. However, things don't go quite to plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: blood

Mary couldn’t help but chew on her bottom lip as she watched Count Vincent’s men ungratefully devour the food in front of them. They had stuffed their pockets with the gold Catherine had brought the Count as an offering of peace, some even threw the coins around the room.

She knew the night was drawing to a close and the plan would have to be executed soon if it were to work. As fewer servants seemed to be serving them, she knew Francis must have succeeded in escaping his confinement and helping most of the staff escape out of the passageway in the hall.

Mary closed her eyes tight and tried to ignore the Count’s hand grazing up her thigh. When she opened them again, she caught Catherine’s eye. The Queen nodded, quickly, indicating that Mary should take this opportunity to get both herself and her ladies out of the room.

“Count,” Mary said quietly, leaning slightly towards the Count. “I’m having a little trouble...breathing.” 

The Count turned to look at her, concern spread across his face. “Are you unwell?”

Mary laughed politely, feigning embarrassment as she tried again. “No, um...it’s my…” she leaned in closer, whispering into the Count’s ear. “...corset.” 

Count Vincent blushed at the intimate topic, clearly uncomfortable. He cleared his throat and leaned away from Mary slightly. “Well, why don’t you go and...sort yourself out.” 

Mary nodded graciously before standing. “My ladies shall attend to me.” 

Lola, Aylee, Greer and Kenna stood too, curtsying before following Mary away from the feast. Catherine watched the five girls go, thanking the Lord that their plan had worked. Now she just had to get herself out of there. She glanced down at the timer on the table, tapping her foot impatiently. Not long now, she was sure.

She tried to enjoy what was left of her food, despite her intolerable company. She looked up from her plate as she saw Mary and her ladies re-enter the room. Her plan had failed. She looked back at the timer desperately as Count Vincent stood up, pushing his chair back. 

“Well, this has been splendid,” Count Vincent declared, and his men murmured in agreement, “but now, I think it’s time my men and I took our leave.” He smiled evilly at Catherine, letting her know this meant the end of her children. The Queen glanced down at the timer on the table once more. She didn’t have enough time, so she was going to have to make some. 

“Wait!” she stood up quickly, pressing her hands flat against the table. “Please, Count Vincent.” she looked up at him desperately. “I am begging you, please spare my children.” If Mary and her ladies hadn’t been able to escape, perhaps her sons hadn’t either.

Mary swallowed the lump in her throat as she stood, huddled in the corner with her ladies. She knew Francis was out of the castle with his brothers. Even if Mary herself was still trapped here, at least she knew he was safe.

“Please, there must be something else I can give you.” Catherine continued.

Count Vincent became visibly more irritated with every word Catherine spoke, and yet, she did not stop.

“What do you want? Do you want women? Take these.” She turned back to Mary and her ladies who stepped back in horror.

Mary held her arms out in front of Aylee and Lola and Greer and Kenna clung to each other, helplessly.

“Take their virtue. They won’t dare speak of it to anyone, it would ruin their reputation.” Catherine had no intention of letting any of these men near the girls, she was simply buying for time.

“I understand the pain. To outlive your child, it is unbearable. I understand your heart, and I understand you.”

“Give me your heart then!” The Count snapped, his eyes wide with madness. “Carve it out and hand it to me so that we might understand one another. That is diplomacy.”

The anger in Count Vincent’s eyes was quickly replaced with sadness as he spoke to Catherine. 

“To understand the loss.”

His eyes filled with hot tears as he addressed the rest of the room. “To carry the weight of your dead heart with you every night and day until you find your grave.” His men bowed their heads in respect, but Catherine held hers high as he turned back to her.

“Roberto.” Catherine frowned in confusion as the Count spoke. “Give me Roberto, and I will let your children live.”

Catherine’s eyes lit up with desperation before darkening with defeat. His son was the one and only thing she could not give to him. Count Vincent waited patiently for Catherine’s response, and when she shook her head sadly, he lunged towards the girls. 

The hall erupted into chaos so quickly that Catherine struggled to make sense of what was happening. 

Count Vincent had seized Mary and thrown her against the table, trying to pin her down as she struggled against him.

Many of the Count’s men had grabbed Kenna and started tossing her between them, beating her until she fell to the ground. 

Lola, Aylee and Greer clung to each other, screaming, wanting to help their friend but knowing it would do no good.

The rest of Count Vincent’s men started throwing food across the table at each other, cheering each other on. 

“Unhand her at once!” Catherine ordered as the Count tried to climb on top of Mary’s body. So determined in his actions, he didn’t notice the rest of his men fall silent. 

“Count?” He looked up, shocked as he saw blood dripping from his men’s noses and ears, as they fell to the floor one by one, dead. He looked up at Catherine, confused. 

“I don’t understand...we-we ate the same food. We drank the same wine.” 

“The gold.” Mary whispered, looking up at Catherine as she realised the Queen had a backup plan all along. In this moment, she was ever so glad that she did.

Mary felt her heart sink as a smirk formed across the Count’s face. “I never touched your Medici money.” 

He may have lost this time, but he could still ruin France’s alliance with Scotland by taking the Scottish Queen’s virtue. 

As the Count ran his hand up her leg, Mary reached above her head for the carving fork that lay further up the table. Her fingers gripped around the handle and she plunged it into the Count’s neck, blood spurting onto her dress. She looked away from the gruesome sight before her, oblivious to the knife that the Count held in his own hand. 

Count Vincent held the knife over Mary’s head, his hands shaking from the blood loss. Before he could thrust the knife into her skin, a sword swept down as if from nowhere and sliced through his hand, releasing the final amount of blood needed to kill him. 

“Your son awaits you.”

The words left Francis’ mouth as he looked down at the blood-covered sword he held in his hands.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the feast basically. Also,,,Frary <3  
> A short one this time, the last one was very long XD

Francis helped Mary off the table and she collapsed into his arms, feeling safe in his embrace. Her head was too full to think of the promise to her he had broken by coming back for her. 

Aylee and Greer helped Kenna to her feet as Lola turned to face Catherine. “This was your idea all along.” She didn’t phrase this as a question, but rather an unanswered truth. “You saved us.” 

“You didn’t really think I’d leave the lives of my sons up to some passageway in the castle, did you?” 

Lola smiled at Catherine’s sarcasm and Francis rewarded his mother with a grateful look and a nod as he held Mary close to him. 

“You really don’t look so good, Kenna.” Aylee said quietly, brushing the messy hair away from Kenna’s battered face. Her cheeks were bruised and her bottom lip was cut and swollen. “We’ll take you to Nostradamus.” Aylee finished and Greer and Lola helped guide her out of the room.

Catherine scanned the bloody corpses littering the floor, sighing to herself. “I guess someone has to clean this mess up.” She leaned over, lifting her timer off the table and patting it, smiling. 

“Thank you, mother. You saved a lot of lives today.” 

Catherine was genuinely touched by Francis’ approval and she bowed her head to him.

“I would move Heaven and Earth for you, my son.” she said, before her footsteps guided her out of the room to free her guards from the prisons. 

Francis held a shaking Mary close to his chest, stroking her hair gently. “It has been a long night.” Francis whispered. “Would you like me to take you back to your chambers?”

Mary nodded mutely as she pulled away from Francis. As they walked together, she slipped her hand into his. She wasn’t sure why, but somehow it felt right. As they reached her door, Francis stopped abruptly, unsure of what to do. He certainly didn’t want to push Mary too far, but he also couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her alone. 

“I, uh…” he cleared his throat, letting go of Mary’s hand. “I’ll let you get dressed and then come back to check on you in a bit, alright?” 

Mary nodded again, her eyes watching him intently. Francis suddenly felt very warm, and he didn’t think it was the winter coat he wore. He blushed as Mary reached up, her hand on his shoulder, to kiss him gently on the cheek. 

Francis watched as Mary disappeared into her room, the light from the surrounding candles made her raven hair shimmer and she slipped through the door. He brought a hand up to touch his cheek where Mary had kissed, his stomach flipping over inside of him.

As he hurried down the halls to his own chambers, he couldn’t help but wish he had followed Mary into hers.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary visits Francis' chambers after struggling to get to sleep.

Francis looked up as the door to his chambers creaked open. It was late into the night, and he had already been to check on Mary. She had been pale and quiet, speaking very few words and wanting nothing more than to hold onto Francis, but he didn’t mind.

After the terrible evening they had both endured, he wasn’t sure Mary would want to talk to him, but as she slipped into his room, the colour had returned to her face and she seemed much more herself. She wore her bed clothes and a bed robe across her shoulders, her dark hair fell in ringlets down her back. Francis watched her as she stepped further into the room.

“I couldn’t sleep.” she whispered, her eyes tired and wide. 

“Mary”

Both walked steadily towards one another, unsure. Francis did not want to scare Mary or hurt her after the night she’d had, but, as they drew closer, he sensed there was something behind her eyes. 

“Why?” she asked. 

He felt the shock before the impact as Mary slammed her hands into his chest, pushing him, hard. 

“Why did you come back?” she pushed him again. “You didn’t know the gold was poisoned.” she reached her hands out to push him again, but Francis caught her wrists and held them at his chest.

Mary struggled against him, screaming hysterically, and Francis did his best to hold her still. “It was one man against ten, they would’ve killed you!” As she successfully managed to writhe her way out of Francis’ arms, she pushed him again, her voice wild. “Why would you do something so stupid?!”

Francis cupped her cheeks, looking into her eyes, trying to calm her down.

“Because I love you.” 

Mary froze, allowing Francis’ words to sink in. “What?” She already knew that he loved her, but it was different hearing him say it. 

“Because it’s pretty obvious now that for us to stay safe,” he said, stroking Mary’s cheeks. “We need to be together.” 

Mary nodded slightly as she looked up into his blue eyes. Somehow, he made everything better.

“But what about-” 

Mary was interrupted by Francis’ lips pressing against hers. This kiss was different to the others they had shared, it was more passionate, more intimate. As they pulled away, Francis kept his arms around her, looking down into her hazel eyes. 

“What about France and Scotland-” Mary was interrupted once again as Francis kissed her, pulling her close to him. When they pulled away this time, Francis spoke, his voice soft and low. 

“There has been entirely too much thinking going on.” 

Mary smiled up at Francis as their lips reconnected, her hands reaching into his hair. Francis guided Mary over to the bed, and she let him, lying down and pulling Francis down with her. Francis pulled away from Mary for a moment, allowing himself to speak.

“Tell me when you want me to stop.” 

Mary pulled him back down and whispered through kisses.

“Never.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know how I can improve this or if there are any particular scenes of situations you'd like me to write <3


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Francis proposes to Mary and they finally get their happy ending. awww <3

As the summer sun shone down on the castle gardens, Francis and Mary walked hand in hand through the lines of trees. Francis admired Mary as she walked, her white dress billowing in the wind and her raven hair cascading down her shoulders in curls. Francis himself wore a red jacket decorated with gold buttons, his bright blue eyes shimmering in the sunlight. She stopped walking and Mary stopped too, turning to Francs in confusion. 

“My father didn’t pose our marriage as a question, but I will.” Francis said, squeezing Mary’s hand. “Do you want this?” 

“I want you.” Mary said, continuing to walk through the gardens. Francis smiled at Mary’s innocence as he walked with her. “I’m afraid,” she continued, “I don’t want to start a war.”

“I know you want time to sort everything out, and maybe we have time. But we are a separate issue.” Francis brought Mary’s hand up to his chest, holding it with both of his. “And this is our chance, right now, to be together without anyone or anything standing in our way.”

Francis looked down into Mary’s hazel eyes and she smiled slightly.

“What are you saying?”

Francis hesitated, trying to ignore the redness that took over his cheeks.

“Marry me.”

Francis turned to Mary, his eyes bright with the smile that formed across his face. Mary smiled back, clutching Francis’ hand tighter. 

“You won’t pressure me?” 

“I’ll pressure you,” Francis said, walking ahead of Mary and turning to stand in front of her. “And listen to you. And argue with you.” Mary blushed as Francis took her other hand in his. “And love you until the day I die.” 

Lowering himself down onto one knee, Francis held Mary’s hand, smiling up to her. 

“Marry me.” 

Mary gasped a little, laughing. 

“Say yes!” Francis laughed. 

“Yes,” Mary said as Francis rose to his feet. “Yes!”

They kissed under the bluest of skies and Francis lifted Mary into the air. As they ran back towards the castle, laughing all the while, Mary knew she had found her home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well it's been a fun ride getting to the end of this but I figured I couldn't let it go on forever. This seemed a nice way to end it. I'm thinking about doing a modern au with the reign characters, with Frary of course, and hopefully I'll get he chance to write a little bit about Francis' relationship with Olivia. Please please let me know if you have any ideas for it, I always love hearing from you guys. Stay safe and keep smiling x

**Author's Note:**

> So I just wanna say that pretty much everything you're reading is NOT historically accurate. Like, at all XD  
> I chose to base this more off the TV show Reign than the actual historical events because I love Bash's character and wanted to include him (he was sadly not a real person :(. ) and also, in real life, all of Mary's ladies were called Mary, so I figured the names used in the show would be less confusing. 
> 
> I hope you are well and enjoy x


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